


Seizing My Guts (He Floats Me With Dread)

by 221blackandwhitestripes



Series: Riddlebird Week 2018 [2]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amy Winehouse - Freeform, Apologies, Behavior the Writer Doesn't Necessarily Condone, Blindness, Boredom, Boys Kissing, Cemetery, Chair Sex, Coma, Confusion, Creative Liberties, Day Two: Music/Dance, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreams vs. Reality, Eavesdropping, Episode: s03e14 The Gentle Art of Making Enemies, Fix-It of Sorts, Flirting, Hand Jobs, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jumping to Conclusions, Laughter, Lies of Omission, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Mental Health Issues, Miscommunication, Music, Mutual Pining, Neck Kissing, Plot, Possessive Behavior, Presumed Dead, Public Display of Affection, Regret, Riddlebird Week, Rough Kissing, Seizures, Trauma, baths, more lies, wake up alone, wall kissing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-05-18 21:58:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14861039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221blackandwhitestripes/pseuds/221blackandwhitestripes
Summary: Oswald awakes from a coma with a bullet hole in his stomach and no recollection of how it got there. With his sight impaired, the task of finding his would-be killer seems to be impossible. Luckily for Oswald, Ed Nygma, his Chief of Staff, is there to lend a hand.Riddlebird Week, Day Two:Music/Dance





	1. ...Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody! I'd just like to say how much I've enjoyed writing this fice so far, and I hope you enjoy reading it too. When I saw the prompt Music/Dance I was thinking fics with Ed teaching Oswald how to dance or Oswald accidentally singing Wake up alone. But I've already read those fics, and they'd been done so well too. Luckily, this idea hit me like a freaking lightning bolt and I'm super proud of it. Anywho, please enjoy this!
> 
> (p.s. I love y'all so much!)

_“And I wake up… Alone.”_

A whispering voice called through the veil of black coating Oswald’s mind.

_“And I wake up… Alone.”_

Louder and louder, the words vibrating through his soul like a dark-chocolate melody.

_“And I wake up… Alone.”_

“Hello?” He called, looking around. More darkness, pitch black and gritty like an old film or an underexposed photograph.

_“And I wake up… Alone.”_

The words screeched and wailed like an out of tune violin, the sound piercing his eardrums deafeningly. He groaned, trying in vain to cover his ears and block the noise, but to no avail.

_“He’s fierce in my dreams, seizing my guts.”_

A burst of blood flooded Oswald’s mouth, and he tried desperately to spit it out even as more and more rose up his throat. A gunshot echoed in the vibrating darkness, playing over and over again like a broken record. Oswald clutched his stomach as a searing pain ripped through him, a hole tearing through his flesh, He gasped, more blood spilling from his mouth as he tried desperately to clamp down and force the hole to stay together.

_“He floats me with dread.”_

Oswald gurgled, choking on thick red as his body rose, weightlessness overtaking him as he swam in the black. He was in a night-sky without stars, gravity lost as he kicked his good leg out.

_“Soaked in soul, he swims in my eyes by the bed.”_

“Ed?” Oswald gasped. The image of Edward distorted and reshaped in front of him. A neon green haze shined across his face, curls splayed across his forehead just as they had been the day Oswald had woken up in his apartment. Oswald laid back in the darkness, the ground below him soft and plush like a feather mattress. Ed followed, eyes shining as they bore into him. Praise tumbled from his rosy lips, his name spoken again and again, _Mr Penguin, Mr Penguin, Mr Penguin._

Suddenly, his expression changed, the soft curls slicking back into a more severe style. Water dripped from his face, his brown eyes cold and flat as they regarded Oswald with rivers of apathy.

_I don’t love you._

Gunshot. Blood.

_I don’t love you._

Gunshot. Blood.

_I don’t love you._

Gunshot. Blood.

_“Pour myself over him.”_

“Ed, please!” Oswald rushed forward, trying to desperately clutch him close. Ed’s hand dug into the hole in Oswald’s gut, twisting in the jarred flesh until Oswald was screaming. Ed’s hand grabbed at his ribs, breaking apart the cage protecting his heart.

_“Moon spilling in.”_

Suddenly, the darkness flooded out into white, the light blinding Oswald’s eyes as he desperately tried to free himself from Ed’s clawing grasp.

“Please,” he gasped, the air feeling too thick, almost liquid. He was breathing blood, the red clogging up his throat until he couldn’t breathe anymore.

_“And I wake up... alone.”_

“Please,” he whispered as his eyes flickered shut.

“Please,” he whispered as his heart beat slower and slower.

“Please,” he whispered as the crumbled to dust and he was left swimming in nothing.

_“If I was my heart,_

_I'd rather be restless._

_The second I stop, the sleep catches up, and I'm breathless._

_This ache in my chest,_

_As my day is done now._

_The dark covers me and I cannot run now._

_My blood running cold,_

_I stand before him._

_It's all I can do to assure him;_

_When he comes to me,_

_I drip for him tonight._

_Drowning in me we bathe under blue light.”_

 

_“And I wake up alone.”_

♠ ♠ ♠

At first, the only movement Oswald could manage was a small twitch of his right index finger. _Twitch, twitch, twitch_ , like when Fish would drum her nail on a hardwood table, sighing with impatience, or disappointment. Nothing had ever been good enough.

 _Twitch, twitch, twitch,_ until one finger became two, and two became three, until eventually, he could flex his whole hand.

Voices called to him, soft and encouraging. Oswald wasn’t entirely sure they were real.

Sounds got clearer, beeping heart monitor, the respirator over his face, coughs and sniffles of the people walking by.

Sensation grew stronger, the pinch where his IV drip pierced his skin, the subtle warmth generated by a heat pump somewhere in the room. And the deep, deep ache within his gut like something had torn through his flesh. Oswald had done this enough times to recognise a bullet wound when he felt one. But how it got there? 

Oswald didn’t have the faintest idea.

♠ ♠ ♠

“Now, Mayor Cobblepot, I’m just going to tilt your head forward slightly. Yes, that’s it. Okay, I’m going to raise your arm now. Good, you’re doing exceptionally. Now I’ll lift your other arm. Okay, are you comfortable? Tap your fingers twice for yes, once for no.”

Oswald wished he could roll his eyes. Reluctantly, he tapped twice, waiting for the nurse to continue.

“Good. Now I'll- oh. Mr Nygma.”

The heart rate monitor beeped faster, Oswald's entire body twitching with the need to _see, touch, speak_.

“It's alright, Mr Cobblepot. Just relax.”

Oswald huffed, the air bouncing off his oxygen mask and back onto his face. It was _Mayor_ Cobblepot, thank you very much.

“You can sit here, if you'd like.” Oswald assumed the nurse was talking to Ed, now. “He’s awake, he knows it's you.”

Ed's shoes clicked along the floor, coming to a stop by Oswald's head.

“Oswald,” Ed rumbled from above, tone unreadable without an expression to go with it. Oswald wished desperately that he could see him, but every time he tried to open his eyes, he was just met with more black. They must have placed a covering of some sort over his eyes to block out the hospital lights. A good idea in theory, but frankly insufferable in times like these.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll continue,” the nurse informed them. “Okay, Mr Cobblepot, I’m going to stimulate your legs, now. And then, I can remove your mask.” _Oh, thank **god**._

Oswald drifted off a little as the nurse went about massaging his legs, paying a cordial amount of attention to his good one before focusing more intently on his broken limb.

“Can I- can I _help_?” Ed asked. He sounded quite hoarse. Oswald briefly worried that the other man was still feeling pain from Butch’s strangling last night. It _had_ been last night, correct? How long had he been in hospital? Perhaps it was two nights ago? There really was no way of knowing until he regained his vocal cords and could properly ask.

“No, no. This kind of massage requires extensive training, and I can’t allow you to touch the patient without express permission.

“Mhmf,” Oswald cried indignantly. Edward had the right to touch him, dammit, after everything he’d given. Oswald would much rather have his hands handling his body than some _stranger’s_ who wasn’t smart enough for a full PhD.

“Are you sure? I’ve- I’ve done it before.” What? No, he hadn’t. Oswald was pretty sure he’d remember something like that. Although Oswald could easily forgive the lie if it meant Ed would be the one doing this.

“Sir, if you keep insisting, I’ll have to remove you,” the nurse warned. Then she sighed. “If you really want to do something, you can help remove the oxygen mask.”

Wow. Ed must have pulled those puppy eyes. He was always impossible to say no to whenever he did that.

“Okay.” The nurse finished with Oswald’s legs, and a large hand brushed against Oswald’s cheek as the mask was finally removed. Oswald breathed a sigh of relief. The air was much fuller when it wasn’t inhaled through a tube. Oswald flexed his fingers, eyes fluttering open excitedly…

Only to be met once more with _black_.

“Ah?” He grunted in question as he fluttered his eyelashes again and again. The heart monitor spiked alarmingly as Oswald struggled to breathe. Was- was there still something covering his eyes? Or was he really… Could he really not…

“Please, sir, calm down. It’s all going to be fine. We don’t need you to strain yourself by talking yet, there’ll be plenty of time for that.” The nurse didn’t understand. How could she? Oswald breathed slowly as instructed, calming a little when he felt the pressure of a hand over his own.

“O-Oswald,” Ed spoke, his nervousness stuttering his words. “I’m… I hope that it’s okay that I came to see you.”

What was he on about. Of _course_ it was okay. Oswald desperately wished he could nod enthusiastically, or even speak proper syllables. Instead, he placated himself by turning over his hand and clumsily attempting to interlock Ed’s fingers with his own.

 _“I hope you know, Oswald,”_ He remembered Ed saying. _“I’d do anything for you. You can **always** count on me.”_

He must’ve been right.

♠ ♠ ♠

_“He’s fierce in my dreams, seizing my guts.”_

Words, crooned lowly, seductively. His own mouth swallowing around them. Black, like the ocean where it’s so deep that the sun can no longer touch the sand.

_“He floats me with dread.”_

Oswald absolutely hated it here. It must’ve been nighttime again, for him to be left alone for so long. There were always hoards of people, countless voices, checking on his progress, moving his legs and arms like he was an action figure. It was tiresome, indeed. Ed had disappeared at some point, leaving Oswald’s hand to cool as he drifted in the void.

Which brought him here, not quite asleep but definitely not awake. And that recurring song playing on and on in his head like it _meant_ something. Oswald couldn’t even begin to understand.

_“Soaked in soul, he swims in my eyes by the bed.”_

Who was the song referring to? Was it Ed? It seemed the most likely, especially with the sudden turn his heart had taken of late. Still, Ed hadn’t ‘floated him with dread’, exactly. More floated him with joy, if anything. His mother had once told him that life only gives you one true love. And when he found it, to run to it.

_“Pour myself over him.”_

Perhaps the song was from his mother, telling him to take the chance while he could and confess his newfound feelings. Despite it still being early days, Oswald was beyond sure that Edward was his soulmate. Although a song seemingly about sex didn’t seem likely to emerge from his late mother. Not in reference to him, anyway.

_“Moon spilling in.”_

Oswald would just have to wait until his voice had recovered and he could speak again. It would also help if they had some privacy, it wouldn’t do to blab in front of some hospital aid about the Mayor of Gotham’s romantic feelings toward his Chief of Staff.

_“And I wake up… Alone.”_

Some time later, Oswald’s eyes opened once more. And, again, the world…

Was _black_.

♠ ♠ ♠

“I’m sorry, sir, but there is _nothing_ covering your eyes.”

“No, you don’t _understand_ ,” Oswald croaked. His voice was still hoarse from prolonged dormancy. “There’s no-” He had to stop to cough, the movement in his lungs hurting his ribs and, in turn, his stomach-wound. Which he _still_ didn’t know the source of. But, one issue at a time. “There _has_ to be something-”

“Mayor Cobblepot, there’s nothing-” 

“I can’t _see_ , dammit!” Oswald yelled, cutting off the no doubt startled nurse, breaking into another coughing fit.

“Oh, M-Mister Nygma. I don’t think now is a very good time…” Oswald’s stomach dropped.

“Oswald?” His voice sounded just as pitiful as his own, although Oswald suspected it was for very different reasons. Everyone went quiet, both Oswald and Ed waiting for the other to speak.

“Um, sir,” the nurse murmured, barely above a whisper. “How about I fetch Doctor Michaels? He might be able to… To help with your situation.”

The pattering of feet told Oswald that the nurse had left, leaving him alone with Edward. Oswald swallowed thickly. What must Ed think of him, now? A man gone mad; unable to see for no reason at all. A broken shell, unable to be pieced back together. A failure.

“Oswald? Can I..?” A soft hand brushed his own and, slowly, Oswald nodded. Ed’s hand was trembling as it took Oswald’s, the grip weak as his thumb brushed nervously over his knuckles. “I’m s-sorry.”

“Why? It’s not your fault,” Oswald croaked, wishing he could look into Ed’s eyes and show him how sincere his words were.

“It is,” Ed negated emphatically.

“No, it isn’t,” Oswald shook his head before huffing a laugh. “I mean, it’s not like _you_ shot me, right?”

Silence.

“Ed?”

“Of course I didn’t!” Ed confirmed in a rush. “I would never- I would still do _anything_ for you.”

“Glad to hear it.” Oswald smiled, tilting his head until his cheek brushed against the hospital pillow.

The sound of the door opening announced the entry of the nurse and Dr Michaels, the twin pairs of footsteps echoing loudly through the otherwise quiet room.

“He _llo_ , Mr Mayor,” The Doctor greeted with an overly enthusiastic voice. “It’s nice to see so much improvement in your health already. We were rather worried about you.”

This Doctor was _not_ helpful.

“Nurse Hamilton here tells me you’re having a spot of trouble with your eyesight.” _Yeah, no shit._ “Let’s see if we can shed some light on the matter, shall we?”

After enduring a much too long session of the Doctor breathing on him as he examined his eyes, the only reassurance being Ed’s firm, clasping hand as his presence at Oswald’s side, Oswald was able to breathe a long sigh of relief as he listened to the tell-tale snap of the Doctor’s surgical gloves being removed, and the soft pump of the antibacterial gel as The doctor cleaned himself off.

“Well? What’s the diagnosis, _Doc?_ ” Oswald mocked, delighting in the soft snort from the man beside him.

“It seems that your eyes are fine. They’re perfectly healthy, the pupils are dialating nicely. The cause of your apparent ‘blindness’ appears to have nothing to do with the eyes itself but, rather, with your brain.”

“My brain?” Oswald echoed.

“Exactly. It appears that after losing a substantial amount of oxygen in your brain, the respective damage has caused-”

“Wait, what?” Oswald interrupted him. “Lack of oxygen?”

“Well, that’s why you were in a coma. The damage you sustained was very detrimental. Your body couldn’t cope.”

“I get that, but why did it happen in the first place?” Oswald reiterated impatientintly. “I thought I was shot, not choked.”

“You _were_ shot,” the Doctor confirmed. “You were shot at the docks, then dumped in the river. Mr Nygma told us he got there just in time to see the man leave. He took a long time trying to locate you, and when he couldn’t, he had to call the coastguard to send divers to find you.”

Oswald frowned. “Do they know who shot me?”

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

“How do I not remember any of this?” Oswald asked exasperatedly.

“Calm down. It’s very normal for victims to forget the source of their trauma. Many often never recover their-”

“I am _not_ a victim,” Oswald hissed, cutting the idiot off.

“No, sir.”

“I am the Mayor of Gotham, and shall be addressed so justly.” 

“Yes, sir.” The was a pause, as the tension in the room struggled to simmer down. “If you would be so kind, sir, what is the last thing you can recall before waking up?”

Oswald thought back, pushing past the fuzzy emptiness and into the overly-saturated light.

“I remember my Mayoral celebration party. I remember that fiend, Butch Gilzean, charging at poor Edward.” The hand in his squeezed, and Oswald once again breathed a sigh of relief at the assurance that the other man was, indeed, alive. “I remember the ride home, making tea, enjoying some… late night conversation. Then I remember going to bed and, when I woke up, I was here.”

“S-sir,” the Doctor stuttered. “That was _weeks_ ago.”

“Surely not,” Oswald denied.

“Not mere weeks, it was _months_. Are you sure there isn’t nothing more than that? Anything you can remember?”

The grip on his hand had stiffened, and Oswald soothed his thumb over Ed’s fingers placatingly.

“Nothing else. Except,” Oswald swallowed. “There _was_ a dream. It was very strange though, I’m not sure if it was a memory or not. There was this song…”

_“He’s fierce in my dreams, seizing my guts.”_

“But I don’t believe it’s much to go on.”

“Oh, well,” The doctor sighed. “It does seem that you’ve made a good recovery, however. We’ll keep you under observation for a few more days but, after that, you’re free to go.”

“Thank you,” Oswald said, squeezing Ed’s hand. He couldn’t wait for this to all be over. “Doctor? Will my sight ever return?”

“There’s a high possibility, yes,” the Doctor assured him. “There are many cases of people regaining partial, or even full eyesight once more. Although there are no guarantees, of course. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

Oswald nodded, slowly. He just wanted to go home.

♠ ♠ ♠

_“He’s fierce in my dreams, seizing my guts._

_He floats me with dread._

_Soaked in soul, he swims in my eyes by the bed._

_Pour myself over him,_

_Moon spilling in._

_And I wake up-”_

♠ ♠ ♠

“Alone.” Oswald gasped awake, opening his eyes. 

Again; _black_.

“Don’t worry, it’s just me,” Ed’s soft voice gently called to him. 

“Is it time to go already?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“Yep,” Ed’s confirmed, his excitement palpable. There was a soft squeak as something with wheels was pushed into the room.

“Here you go, Mayor Cobblepot,” a new voice announced. “Do you need help getting him into it?” This question was, presumably, aimed at Ed.

“I don’t think so, but thank you,” Ed replied curtly, his voice growing nearer as he walked to Oswald’s bed. A soft touch to his shoulder alerted him to Ed’s presence. “Can you sit up, or do you need help?”

Oswald internally debated allowing Ed to help him, to have those strong arms wrap around him and lift him. But, no, Oswald was better than that, he wouldn’t allow himself the weakness.

“I think I’ll be fine, thank you. But if I need you…” Oswald trailed off, wishing he could gain some assurance from Ed’s facial expression.

“Of course,” Ed said eventually. He must have remembered that Oswald _couldn’t see him_.

Oswald dug the heel of his palm into the mattress, anchoring himself as he slowly began to rise, grunting as he went. His abdomen gave a dull, aching throb, and Oswald tried not to wince. Ever since his ‘shouting match’, the nurses had begun to wean him off the painkillers, leaving him on what they titled ‘a healthy dose for a man your age’. Oswald missed the drugs.

“I have your clothes here. Do you need help putting them on?” Ed asked.

“I'll manage, but thank you,” Oswald told him, feeling around the pile of clothes until he'd found his undershirt. This should be easy, everyone knew that the hardest part of getting dressed in the morning was choosing what to wear.

He pulled off the hospital gown with a sharp tug, thoroughly pleased to be rid of the offending thing. He set it aside, a loud gasp sounding in the room, making his eyes sting as he tried desperately to focus them on the culprit.

“Ed?” He asked, turning his head in an attempt to find him.

“Uhm, sorry, sudden- s-sudden chill,” Ed apologized rather shakily.

“...Okay,” Oswald allowed, accepting the lie for now. He fisted his hand in his undershirt, running his fingers along the inside of the collar, in search of the tag. Finding it, Oswald pulled on the shirt, hoping it was the right way out, wincing at the stretch to his stomach muscles.

His hand once more grazed along the pile, searching for his boxer-briefs. He bent, breathing hard through the abdominal pain as he guided the garment halfway up his bad leg before bending and guiding his good leg into it too and shimmying it on the rest of the way.

He reached out again, searching for-

“You know what?” Ed's firm hand spread atop his own. “How about I do this?”

“What? No!” Oswald protested, pulling his hand away.

“You want this to be over as soon as possible so we can go home? Let me do this.”

“...Fine,” Oswald sighed, relenting. “But make it quick.”

He tolerated the motions of Ed maneuvering his arms and legs, ignoring the twinges of pain to instead focus on Ed's warm hands on his body. Not exactly the scenario to get Ed’s hands on him that he'd had planned out, but he'd take what he could get.

“Okay, time to stand,” Ed instructed quietly, tapping Oswald's shoulder twice with a finger.

“Oh, right.” Oswald swallowed, unsure how to escape this particular predicament

“Do you need any help with your leg?’ Ed whispered, soft and sincere with no trace of judgement. Oswald hesitated only a moment before nodding his assent, reaching his hands out for Ed’s shoulders. Ed’s own hands came up to clasp them, guiding them to rest on the strong muscles. The gesture was incredibly intimate, a small shiver passing down Oswald’s spine as a heat flushed his face.

“Are you alright?” Ed whispered.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Ed helped guide him to a stand, leading him several steps forward before turning him gently, and seating him back down. Oswald huffed, crossing his arms. He was in a wheelchair. A _wheelchair_. Like a proper invalid.

“I know what you’re thinking, but it’s just to the car, I have your cane in the backseat,” Ed assured him, his lips brushing by Oswald’s ear with a soft tenderness.

“Fine,” Oswald huffed, flinching as the chair tipped a little.

“Sorry, sorry.”

Oswald sighed in relief as he was set right again, shoulders still remaining tense as Ed began to push him down the hospital’s long, seemingly winding corridors. He lost track of how many turns they’d taken, only knowing they had exited the building when he finally felt Gotham’s icy wind whipping his hair and stinging his cheeks.

They came to a standstill, Oswald tapping his finger impatiently as he wondered what was taking so long.

“Your driver truly is a debacle. I told him to be here five minutes ago,” Ed huffed from somewhere behind Oswald.

“But I thought you liked Jeffrey?” Oswald questioned.

“Who? Oh no, you changed him out for Charles.”

“Why would I do that?” Oswald asked, bemused.

“I have no idea. You refused to tell me,” Ed complained.

“It mustn’t have been important then,” Oswald reasoned. If Edward had been in any danger whatsoever, Oswald sure that his future/past/ _whatever_ self would have let him know.

A car engine sounded, tires against cement following after, and Ed breathed an exasperated sigh behind him.

“You’re late,” he supplied as soon as Oswald heard the car-door opening.

“Not my fault, was it?” The driver- what’s his name? Charles? -told them, the sound of the backseat door opening signaling Oswald relief. “Do ya need help, boss?

“I am perfectly capable,” Oswald hissed in his general direction, motioning with his hand for Ed to come round and assist him. Bracing one hand on Ed’s shoulder, Oswald launched himself up, gritting his teeth against the pain in his abdomen.

“Can you walk?” Ed whispered, and Oswald blessed the man’s penchant for discretion in situations such as these.

“Yes, just…” Oswald clutched Ed’s arm and the man nodded, seeming to get the message.

Oswald leant on Ed’s arm, using him as a guide as he found the open door and shuffled inside. Ed helped stretch-out his bad leg without a word, seeming to have the gesture memorised. The door closed, the opposite one opening a few moments later before Ed shuffled in and took a seat beside him.

“I trust I still live at the Manor, or has that changed too?” Oswald snarked, rather fed up with all the things that seemed to have changed since the moments he last remembered.

Ed chuckled. “No, that’s still the same.”

They settled into silence, the sound of the streets passing by being the only sign they were moving at all, Oswald’s town car possessing one of the top-line, quietest engines for… _reasons_.

“I must say, Ed,” Oswald began, hoping he’d regained Ed’s attention. “You don’t seem… terribly upset. You do realize that I can’t _see_ now? Not to mention the fact that I seem to have forgotten a rather substantial portion of our time together.”

“Be that as it may,” Ed cleared his throat, “I much prefer this version of reality to the alternative.”

Oswald gulped, the image of dying alone, sinking slowly to the bottom of a filthy river sending shivers down his spine. “I find that I have to agree.”

♠ ♠ ♠

Getting up the steps to Manor was another adventure entirely, one of Oswald’s hands clutching Ed’s arm, the other gripping his cane as they slowly made their way into the warmth that was Oswald’s home.

“Ah, it's good to be back,” Oswald sighed happily, tapping his cane on the trustworthy hardwood floor twice for emphasis.

“Oh? I thought you enjoyed being doted on every hour of each day,” Ed teased, hand brushing down his arm and leaving tingles in his wake. 

“Well, there's only so much hospital food I can tolerate, dear friend,” Oswald replied. Ed's hand stiffened on his arm at the mention of the word ‘friend’, but, before Oswald could question it, another voice and heavy footsteps announced a new presence.

“Mr Kapelput,” Olga greeted, still pronouncing his name in the original dialect even after all this time. “Uzhin podan.”

“She said dinner is served,” Ed translated, his hand moving up to press lightly at his shoulder, guiding him forward.

“Yes, I know that one,” Oswald told him, pleased he could still remember what little Russian his mother had taught him. He allowed Ed to gently steer him into the room, finding his seat with ease. The chair to the right of his own scraped across the floor as Edward sat down next to him.

Two dishes clunked down heavily onto the table, followed closely by Olga's customary; “Eat.” It seemed to be the only English word she could ever retain. Oswald listened for her retreating steps before turning to his right.

“Uh, Ed, I might need…” Oswald trailed off, unwilling to ask for help yet again.

“Already on it,” Ed informed him, the telltale scrape of a knife against china accompanying his words. “Open up.”

Oswald flushed. “I'm not a child, Ed.”

“Really?” Ed quipped. “Because you sure look like a baby bird to me.”

“How dare you,” Oswald hissed, wishing he could see Edward so he could throttle him. “Just get on with it,”

“Hold still,” Ed instructed gently, a hand pressing into Oswald's shoulder. Oswald complied, trying his best to glare and probably falling short. “Did you know that there are several different ways adult penguins regurgitate their food to feed their young? It’s actually quite fascinating.”

In lew of groaning to death, Oswald pressed his lips shut, brokering no entry as Ed pressed a forkful of food to lips.

“Oswald,” he admonished after waiting several moments for Oswald to open up.

“Fine,” Oswald sighed, trying to roll his eyes and feeling the muscles move, counting that as a win even though he wasn’t completely sure he’d pulled it off. He opened his mouth happily, sticking out his tongue to welcome what appeared to be some kind of lamb stew.

“Anyway,” Ed continued, removing the fork, scraping it against the plate jarringly, no doubt gathering more food onto it. “The first way is what I like to call ‘the juicing tactic’. The adult penguin partially digests fish or other food inside its stomach and, when the food has been digested enough, the penguin coughs the food back up and feeds it to the chick by pouring the mixture into the chick’s beak.” Ed chose that moment to insert the fork between Oswald’s lips again. “Neat, right?”

Oswald coughed and sputtered, feeling the juices from the lamb spill down his chin as he tried not to die. It would be a shame to succumb so soon after his last encounter with that dark hand. “Ed, warn a guy next time.”

“I did warn you,” Ed told him, his naive confusion so sincere that Oswald couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay, you may continue, but if I do this,” Oswald held up his hand in a ‘stop’ gesture, “please stop. I want this new life to stick.’

“Believe me, there’s nothing more I want than that,” Edward assured him quietly, tone more serious than Oswald had expected considering he’d only been joking. Edward clapped suddenly, more startling without the warning motion preceding it. “Anyway, the second way that penguins feed their chicks is through refrigeration. They swallow the food whole, and secrete it inside their stomach. It can be held for _days_ before the penguin has to feed it to the chick. The food is actually kept at the body temperature of the penguin, and the penguin has special enzymes that keep the food from going bad.”

Ed went back to feeding him, Oswald more resigned to the task than defiant, simply sitting there as Ed scooped the stew into his mouth, adding chunks of carrots and potatoes into the mix.

“The last way,” Ed spoke as he fed him, “Only some breeds of penguins can do. They completely digest their fish and krill before they feed it to their chicks with this oil which is made from all of the nutrients in the food. It takes a while, usually days, but the end result is worth it. They call the oil ‘milk’. It’s quite mesmerizing to think of, the _lengths_ the penguin would go to just to feed their child. Although, I suppose, you would understand that, wouldn’t you?”

Oswald furrowed his brow, accepting what seemed to be the last bite of the stew as he contemplated what Ed had said. The way Ed had said _‘you would understand that’_ implied that he didn’t. Edward had never outright talked about his parents, and Oswald simply assumed that there was just a lack of connection there, whether they’d drifted apart when Ed had come to Gotham or perhaps they’d died when Edward was younger, Oswald had no clue. But, at times like this, Oswald wondered if it went deeper, darker, if perhaps Ed was a ray of light born where the deepest gutters of filth gathered and formed demons, men and women and the in-betweens who were so twisted and shattered they couldn’t stand the sun even as they created its rays themselves.

“Are you full, or do you need more?” Ed asked, breaking through Oswald’s despondent thoughts.

“Oh, I’m fine right now. You really should eat, yourself, Edward,” Oswald insisted kindly, feeling a little raw.

“Thank you. You can tell me about - oh, you have…” Ed trailed off leaving a bubble of silence in his wake. Oswald waited impatiently, eventually opening his mouth to ask what was wrong, when he felt slick skin swipe against his bottom lip. He gaspes, heart stuttering a moment before accelerating to the point of _too fast, too fast, how can Ed not hear how loud and fast my heart’s beating?_

“Oops, I missed,” Ed noted quietly, what Oswald supposed was his thumb moving to press lower along Oswald’s skin, Ed’s other fingers resting on his chin. They lingered, ghosting over Oswald’s skin as he tried to control his breathing.

“E-Ed?” He prompted, voice strangled and ragged as it escaped his aching throat.

“S-sorry,” Ed stuttered, the sound of the chair scraping and table shifting as Ed’s hand disappeared from one breath to the next. “I-I… On second thought, I-I’m rather tired a-and not hungry at all actually, so I-I think I’ll just… just leave and get Olga to-”

“Ed,” Oswald barked, a note of authority seeping into his tone. “Sit down. I’m not having you starve.”

“O-okay,” Ed agreed shakily, the chair scraping again, a good sign in Oswald’s book. The silence was still awkward, though, so Oswald desperately cast about for something to say.

“How… How about you tell me a riddle?” Oswald prompted, resorting to the only guaranteed Edward Nygma pick-me-up that had ever worked in the past (or at least what portion of the past Oswald could remember).

“Okay!” Yup, there was the perkiness Oswald had been looking for. “I am the only thing that places today before yesterday. What am I?”

Silence.

“Do you give up?” Ed asked, voice eager and excited.

“Hush, Eddie, I’m thinking,” Oswald admonished, biting his lower lip in thought. “Can I have a clue?”

“I also place Friday before Wednesday,” Ed answered, a smile evident in his voice, “and Saturday before Thursday.”

_What?!_

“Ed, just tell me,” Oswald sighed in defeat.

“It’s a dictionary,” Ed told him, voice _dripping_ with smugness. “Now, I have three legs, two hearts and-”

“ _No,_ Ed,” Oswald chastised, interrupting him. “Eat your food, it’s done.”

Oswald could practically feel Ed’s pout, but the scrape of dishes against china soon followed, so at least he’d listened to Oswald for once. Oswald wondered when that had started. How much had Ed changed in the days and weeks Oswald had lost. What had happened after that night by the fire?

Oswald vowed to ask Edward tomorrow, with the warmth of a new day to encourage him, and calm Edward’s nerves as well, should he need it. Oswald doubted he would.

It’s not like anything drastic could have happened.

♠ ♠ ♠

“Okay, only two steps left,” Edward informed him, Oswald taking comfort in the arm still firmly locked around his waist. He was, admittedly, rather distracted by Edward being this close, his heavenly scent permeating the air around him, so Oswald definitely appreciated the extra support.

Oswald leant in close (perhaps closer than necessary, who could tell?) as Ed guided him across the landing, taking a familiar right turn, carrying on for a few moments before turning again, into what Oswald knew was his bedroom.

Ed guided Oswald back to sit on his bed, and he tapped his foot impatiently as he heard several drawers open and close.

“Here,” Ed touched his shoulder gently, “I have your pyjamas, I know you can change yourself, but I’ll wait here just in case you need help.”

The silent _‘again’_ went tactfully unsaid.

Oswald stripped, not the least bit self-conscious in front of Ed, who had seen him at his absolute worst, bleeding into his medium thread count sheets with a bullet wound and a broken heart to boot.

“Okay, teeth?” Ed asked, not waiting for confirmation apparently as steady hands took hold of Oswald’s shoulders. Oswald wondered idly if Ed realised how unnecessary all this was. Oswald didn’t _need_ Ed guiding him everywhere he went, certainly not in his own home. But Oswald suspected the other man took some comfort in taking care of him, so he allowed himself to be manhandled anyway.

Ed did, thankfully, leave him alone in his ensuite bathroom (after placing the toothbrush and toothpaste in his hand like he was a lost child) so Oswald could brush his teeth, wash his face and do his business in peace.

Oswald left himself out, immediately running head on into something solid.

“Ed,” he grumbled irritably. “You need to stop hovering, for fuck sakes, it’s giving me anxiety.”

“S-sorry,” Ed apologized, sounding more upset than Oswald had intended.

“Well, I mean… it’s nice to know you care, it’s just rather unnecessary,” Oswald told him. “Go get some sleep. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Ed asked. The words skirted tantalizingly close to a proposal of something more, and Oswald had to fight the heat threatening to rise up his face.

“I’m sure.”

“O-okay,” Ed agreed quietly, his footsteps retreating before disappearing around the opening and shutting door. 

Oswald sighed. As much as he hated upsetting Ed, it was a relief to finally have some peace and quiet, alone in the comfort of his own room..

He felt along the wall, walking with it until his fingertips hit one of the four wooden posts of his bed. Smiling, Oswald turned and tucked himself into the bed, laying back with his hands folded over his stomach, feeling the edge of his bandage with his fingertips. His mind drifted idly, floating from thought to thought.

It occurred to him that the last memory he had from before the accident was laying in this very bed, declaring to the canopy above that he was in love, and that he’d tell Edward the truth before the next sunset.

Oswald wondered what he did.

♠ ♠ ♠

_“He’s fierce in my dreams, seizing my guts.”_

A gunshot, close, ringing his ears as he plunged into the depths of darkness, tides rising above him until he was amongst all the fish at the bottom of the river, looking up at the blue sky so far away and wondering what it would be like to live in the light.

_“He floats me with dread.”_

“Say something.” The words tumbled from his mouth, desperate, broken, scratching at his throat harshly. Oswald reached a hand into his mouth, pulling out a block of ice, gagging around it. The ice shattered as it hit the suddenly black and white tiled floor, melting into it.

_“Soaked in soul, he swims in my eyes by the bed.”_

“Ed?” Oswald gasped, blinking furiously as his eyes struggled to adjust to the halo of white light surrounding Ed’s green-clad frame.

“We’re friends, aren’t we, Oswald?” Ed looked nervous, gaze scattering, splintering.

“Of course!” He wasn’t sure whether the words were his own or if belonged to someone else.

“S-since the accident, a-and I never thought this would happen.” _What accident?_ Oswald wanted to ask, but the words refused to come. “I… have had the desire to become more than… employer/employee. More than friends.”

_“Pour myself over him.”_

Oswald hands clutched at him, the green of Ed’s suit staining his hands until they turned green as well, but Oswald didn’t _care_. “I have been feeling the same,” he told him, the words so true, _so true_ , that, surely, they were his?

_“Moon spilling in.”_

“One cannot deny _love_.” The word was beautiful and lolling as it spilt off his tongue, falling from his tongue to roll a slick line across the tiled floors. Oswald watched them ball up, sticky like a gobstopper, and he wonders how he’d ever managed to let something so unchewable out.

_“And I wake up…”_

“No!” Oswald gasped, knowing what was coming next. “No! I need to know what’s happening, how did I get-”

_“Alone.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop whoop! Are you excited? Intrigued? Ready for more? Well, the next chapter is already started and I promise to post it as soon as it's finished! (I'm really in love with this idea, I hope you guys like it too). I'm thinking this will be around four chapters long, but really, who knows? As usual, any and all kudos/comments are greatly appreciated. Feel free to check out my other works for Riddlebird week, they'll be posted every day for the rest of the week (hopefully).


	2. Fierce in My Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald wakes up with more questions than answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha. Hahahaha. Hi. I bet you didn't think I'd be updating this right now. But here I am :). I bet you also thought I'd be finishing [All This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14869799), but no. Oh well. Anyway, here you go.
> 
> (It's also 12:14 here and I may be lil tipsy because I'm a total lightweight)

Oswald gasped awake, body shaking. His insides burned with the desire to know what his dream had been about. Was it real, a memory dredged up from the hidden depths of his mind, or was it another simple fabrication?

A gentle knock sounded at the door and Oswald opened his eyes. The world was _black_ as before.

“Come in,” Oswald called, voice raspy.

“It’s just me,” Ed informed him, voice growing nearer.

“Ed!” Well, it was now or never. “Would… Would you mind terribly if you helped me out with a little…” Oswald searched for the correct word, “ _-problem_ I’m having?”

“Of course, Oswald,” Ed assured him, voice laced with concern as the bed dipped beside him. “What do you need?”

“Uhh,” Oswald swallowed. He could do this, had probably already done it before, right? Even if that dream _was_ just a dream, surely he would’ve told Ed the truth at _some_ point. Oswald couldn’t think of one good reason why he wouldn’t. “I-I think I remembered something.”

A stuttered breath from Edward’s direction was the only reaction Oswald got, so he decided to continue on anyway.

“It was- you had just told me that y-you wanted to… to be ‘more than friends’.” Oswald waited expectantly.

“Y-yes?” Ed prompted, sounding as choked as Oswald felt.

“And I told you that I… I love you back.” Oswald swallowed. “That’s all I can remember, me saying ‘one cannot deny love’, and then it goes dark again.” There was still no verbal reaction, and Oswald felt cold, hard dread pool at the pit of his stomach. God, if he could only _see_. “S-so… Was that real? Do you… Do you love me?”

Silence permeated the room, and Oswald faintly contemplated just getting up and leaving when Ed finally spoke. “Y-yes.” Oswald held his breath, wanting to be sure. “Yes, _that_ … that was real. And… I do. I do love you.”

The words were new, absolutely _thrilling_ , racing to Oswald’s heart like galloping horses.

“Oh, thank god,” he breathed, launching himself in Ed’s general direction, glad this time when Ed’s hands came out to steer him the right way, hugging him tightly to his body. “So, we were together this whole time?” Oswald questioned. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Oh.” Ed paused for a long time, grip loosening marginally along Oswald’s back. “W-well, I guess that… that when I found out you’d forgotten, I figured… I figured you’d forgotten all of that, t-too.”

“It’s funny,” Oswald contemplated aloud. “But, I actually feel even more in love with you than I did before. Maybe… maybe the feelings stayed, even if the memories didn’t.”

“That could be it,” Ed murmured softly, cheek pressed against his hair.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Oswald admonished again, joking this time, as he pulled back.

“I’m sorry,” Edward told him, voice far too serious for the tone Oswald had been trying to steer them to.

“Well, how about you make up for it?” Oswald asked, deciding he’d continue to tease until, finally, Ed would be on board with it.

“How?” Ed asked.

“Kiss me,” Oswald requested. “I know you surely have already, but I can’t remember. I just want to know what it felt like, my first kiss with you.”

“Oh. O-okay.” A warm hand cupped Oswald’s cheek, Ed’s breath whisking over his face. Oswald held his own breath in anticipation, heart beating steadily faster. It might’ve been stupid, but it truly felt like he was going to have his first kiss. And it was with _Edward Nygma_. Oswald couldn’t believe it.

Soft lips touched his own, and Oswald melted against them, reaching out with his hands to- And, suddenly, the contact was gone, and Oswald was left reeling in disappointment.

“Why did you stop?” Oswald asked, licking his lips and tasting Ed there. “I’m sorry if it was different, it’s just-”

“No! No, I promise you were perfect!” Ed cried, words jumbling over each other. “I just wasn’t sure if--if you were _okay_ with this. I-I didn’t want you to be overwhelmed.”

“Okay,” Oswald allowed, conceding that it was reasonable enough. “You could have asked, though.”

“O-of course,” Ed’s lips smacked loudly, “d-does that mean you want me to…”

“Please,” Oswald nodded, hands reaching out and searching again. He smiled as he felt Ed’s lips press to his once more, harder this time.

“Is this what it felt like? The first time?” Oswald whispered, pulling back a fraction.

“Yes,” Ed gasped against his lips. “You- you were _beautiful_.”

“God, I don't deserve you,” Oswald told him in one, long heated breath, tilting his head to press his forehead to Ed's. “You have no idea how much I wish I could remember.”

Edward hummed in response, the cool metal-frame of his glasses brushing Oswald's brow.

_Knock, knock._

“Mr Kapelput? Zavtrak gotov!” Olga’s sharp voice called, slightly muffled by the door.

“I guess you better help me,” Oswald sighed.

“You mean- you’ll _let_ me?” Ed asked.

“Yes. Now that I know the truth, I think it makes sense why you were behaving the way that you were. It also doesn’t shed the most flattering light on how I behaved, but I can’t see the light anyway, so who cares?” Oswald joked, trying for light-heartedness.

A hand stroked over his face, and Oswald leant into it instinctively. “None of this is your fault, Oswald,” Ed told him fervently. “I should have stopped this from happening. Honestly, your reaction to all of this has been a lot more… tranquil than I’d expected.”

“Good,” Oswald smirked. “I so hate to be predictable.”

♠ ♠ ♠

So what’s on the agenda today?” Oswald asked, chewing his bagel slowly. Olga had been wise enough to incorporate more finger-food into breakfast, allowing Oswald to eat most of it unassisted.

“Ah,” Ed paused, the silence growing slightly uncomfortable, “You-you may want to stop eating for this.”

“Okay,” Oswald agreed suspiciously, slowly setting down the remainder of his bagel. When Ed continued to be silent, Oswald sighed impatiently. “Go on, Ed.”

“Um, well, the thing is,” Ed paused, exhaling with an audible hiss. “Before you were shot, a lot of… unfortunate events transpired.”

“Okay,” Oswald shrugged, picking his bagel back up. Unfortunate events were hardly groundbreaking, considering his history. “Continue.”

“These events lead to calls for a new Mayor to be elected into office and the title of kingpin to be bestowed to Barbara Kean.” Oswald felt crumbs spew out between his fingers, realizing that he’d crushed his bagel in his fist. “Or, as she likes to call herself, Barbara Queen.”

“ _How_ did this happen?” Oswald demanded, his lip curling in fury.

“As I said, a series of unfortunate events lead you to be harangued during an interview. An interview which you ended with the line ‘to hell with the people’.”

“Oh, god,” Oswald groaned, the situation growing infinitely worse as he dropped his head into his hands and incidentally spread crumbs all through his hair.

“As one would expect, that sentence when taken out of context didn’t give you the best image,” Edward continued. “Barbara took advantage of your situation. She had wanted to be in charge the moment you’d let her have a seat at the table.”

“I have to see her,” Oswald announced, standing up too quickly judging by the loud bang his chair made behind him.

“No! No, no, no!” Ed babbled, desperate hands clutching at Oswald’s shoulders. “Believe me, that is the _last_ thing you want to do.”

“Why?” Oswald snapped.

“She wants you dead, Oswald. So does that dullard Butch and Tabitha. You’ll be killed before you reach the bar,” Ed told him.

“How do you know?” Oswald asked, wishing yet again that he could read Edward’s expression.

“I-I” Ed stuttered, and suddenly, everything came together in Oswald’s head.

“She’s the one who tried to kill me!” Oswald exclaimed, delighted at finally having the answer to that nagging question. “Her, Tabitha and Butch, they all conspired against me? But why didn’t you say something?”

“I-” Ed cleared his throat. “We were in the hospital, and I wanted to give you a peaceful night of rest before we went into battle again.”

“Of course, thank you, Ed,” Oswald told him sincerely, reaching out to touch his face and finding the fabric covering his shoulder instead.

“Believe me, it’s nothing,” Ed assured him with startling conviction. “Also, I should probably change your bandages before we head off.”

“A regular Florence Nightingale, you are,” Oswald gushed, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead in a false swoon.

“Did you know that Florence Nightingale was never actually in love with any of her patients? She was simply so dedicated to her work that the other nurses and doctors thought she was in pursuit of a different kind of reward. I suppose, in a way, she was,” Ed babbled, that breathy giggle softening his voice as it often did during prolonged history tangents. “Neat, right?”

“I love you,” Oswald murmured, because he could and because he wanted to hear Ed say it again.

“I love you too.” Oswald grinned.

“I suppose the next step is damage control,” Oswald proposed. “And I know exactly where to start.”

♠ ♠ ♠

The rules were simple: Number one; nobody could know about Oswald’s blindness. Such weakness would be easy to exploit, especially at a time like this. Number two; his and Ed’s relationship would remain a secret until further notice. Oswald had enough scandals to deal with as it were without pouring a workplace romance on top of it. Number three; no mentioning his memory loss. He needed to appear at full capacity and in charge of his mental state if he wanted to convince the people to keep him instated.

And, finally, number four; Ed must stay with him at all times. Oswald had agreed to this rule very reluctantly, insisting that the increased time together would ruin things after they got sick of each other. But Ed seemed convinced that it was the easiest way to keep him safe, and after much cajoling, Oswald had finally relented.

“-because I believe that, together, we have made Gotham safe again!” Oswald declared, finishing his speech by raising his fist in the air, trying to swivel his eyes in the semblance of making eye contact with the crowd.

“Mayor Cobblepot will now be taking questions,” Ed announced, his shoulder brushing by as he spoke into Oswald’s mic. “Yes. You, in the pink.”

“Suzanne Pidduck from the Daily News,” the speaker announced, “I was wondering if we could have a detailed account of the Mayor’s injuries following the attempt on his life.”

“Ah, well,” Ed coughed, his nerves palpable, “As you all know, Mayor Cobblepot had been waylaid in hospital for over two weeks after being shot by an unknown individual, or individuals, whom Os- Mayor Cobblepot couldn’t identify. The bullet tore cleanly through his abdomen, thankfully missing any vital organs. Following this, however, the Mayor was deposited into the river and left for dead, only to be recovered sometime later by the coast-guard. Due to water exposure, a lack of oxygen and his wound, Oswald--I mean--the Mayor entered a coma. He also gained a minor infection in his wound due to the bacteria in the river. He awoke from his coma several days ago and has been on the road to recovery since. We expect him to be fully recovered within the next two weeks. The doctors and I agree that it is best if the Mayor takes a time to rest before he returns to full-time duties as Mayor, so, until then, Mayor Cobblepot has reluctantly agreed to work from home while my team and I continue to run this city and keep it safe.”

Scraping chairs and murmuring voices followed, Oswald fidgeting in place as he desperately tried to decipher the mood of the crowd.

“Yes, you, Miss Vale, I believe.”

“That’s right, Valerie Vale from the Gotham Gazette. Mayor Cobblepot, all the city is wondering; how are you going to reestablish yourself after the backlash from your interview with Margaret Hearst?”

Oswald took a deep breath, clearing his throat. This was what he and Edward had practised for.

“The backlash from that interview was unprecedented. During that time, I was receiving death threats from an anonymous party, causing my health to be compromised. I’m am deeply sorry for any and all comments that my people have taken offence to and I assure that what I said that day is not in any way how I feel right now, at this moment. You are my people and it is my duty to serve you. I hope my people will forgive my transgressions so we can start another day in a Gotham made safe in our unification.”

Oswald stepped back to the sound of applause, pausing when he heard Miss Vale speak again.

“I think I speak for all of Gotham when I say that I full-heartedly agree with you, Mr Cobblepot. You truly have made a difference in this city.”

Oswald grinned. One could always trust Valerie Vale to choose the right side of an argument. “Thank you,” he responded, bowing slightly in a show of humility, the applause rising once more.

“That will be all,” Ed concluded, his hand resting on Oswald’s shoulder as he discreetly steered him away. Oswald followed willingly, bracing for the stairs when Ed warned him about them in a whisper.

“That went very well, I think,” Oswald commented, trying not to hold out his arms to shield himself from possible obstructions, instead trusting Edward to warn him if anything is in his way.

“I completely agree,” Ed murmured, his lips brushing Oswald’s ear out of nowhere, sending shivers down his spine. “How a man as remarkable as you manage to grovel so convincingly, I cannot understand. It is truly astounding.”

“You forget,” Oswald smirked, “I was once umbrella-boy to Fish Mooney herself. And then I worked for Maroni and Falcone. Grovelling is on my resumé.”

“Your quite right, as always,” Ed chuckled. Oswald frowned, confused at Ed’s behaviour.

“Is it usual for you to compliment me this much?” Oswald asked doubtfully.

“Oh,” Ed cleared his throat. “I-I just… you don’t usually point it out, so it never occurred to me that it was strange.”

Oswald frowned again, chewing his bottom lip.

“I-is something wrong? I didn’t mean to make it weird,” Ed apologized quietly.

“No, it’s- I just-” Oswald concentrated, trying to pull at the nagging thread inside his mind. Suddenly, he stumbled, overcome by a wave of nauseating dizziness.

_“I continue to be in awe of you-”_

“Oswald!” Ed cried, the hand on his shoulder moving to clutch him around the middle.

“I-I think I need to lay down,” Oswald sighed, rubbing his temple.

“O-okay.”

“Did anyone see us?” Oswald asked, swivelling his head in the hope of catching some errant sound of movement.

“I don’t think so,” Ed told him. “We should go, it won’t look good if you’re fainting everywhere, people will think you’re compromised.”

“I am though, aren’t I?” Oswald joked halfheartedly, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek as another wave of nausea crashed over him. “Let’s go.” Oswald tried his best not to stumble again as they made their way quickly to Oswald’s office, Oswald getting lost in the maze of turns they took but trusting Ed to steer them in the right direction.

“We probably shouldn’t have left your cane in your office,” Ed admitted as they rounded another bend.

“Ed,” Oswald admonished, “I told you to leave it. That was hardly your fault.”

“You’re blind, Oswald. I could have taken it anyway and you’d have been none the wiser.”

“But you didn’t,” Oswald stated.

“No. And I… I let you down. Again.”

A sharp agonizing pain pierced through Oswald’s skull, blocking out the surrounding world as he clutched his temples.

“Oswald! Are-”

_“I came up empty tracking down Butch.”_

“-You-”

_“Somehow, that one-handed ape managed to disappear. I suspect he’s hiding with his old crew.”_

“-Okay?”

_“I’m sorry for letting you down.”_

“Oswald!”

“I’m fine,” Oswald assured him raggedly, swallowing down the bile sizzling in his throat.

“You don’t look fine,” Ed informed him doubtfully.

“Well, I promise you I am. Now, let’s just go in already. We can’t be seen loitering outside, it would look suspicious,” Oswald reasoned.

“I suppose you’re right,” Ed conceded with a sigh, the sound of the door opening following his words before Oswald was guided into the room. “Now, we have to stay quiet, the walls are thin here and people could walk in at any moment.”

“God, I hate this place,” Oswald groaned, feeling along the wall until he found the ornate couch he’d installed at the beginning of his term.

“It’s only for today, we’ll be spending most of our time at home from now on, I promise you.”

“Fine,” Oswald grumbled. He laid back on the couch with the air of a dramatic toddler, pressing his lips together tightly as pretended he hadn’t just knocked his head against the armrest on the way down.

“So…” Ed began, the awkward tension to his tone palpable. “Can I interest you in some water?”

“Please,” Oswald flapped his hand. “And make sure it’s cold.”

“Of course.” The door opened and closed, leaving Oswald blessedly alone. 

It was going to be a long day.

♠ ♠ ♠

_“That silent sense of content that everyone gets,”_

Oswald’s vision was flooded with light. He blinked against it, trying to focus his gaze. He couldn’t.

Why did it feel like he was missing something?

_“-just disappears ‘soon as the sun sets.”_

The light dimmed and flickered like a flame, disorientating Oswald further. The world appeared to spin, moving at such a speed, Oswald couldn’t follow a single path, simply watching events blur by until colours bled together and all that was left was a sludgy grey.

_“He’s fierce in my dreams, seizing my guts.”_

His hand clenched, and suddenly there was a cane in his grip, the metal head biting into his hand as his weight rested on it. A smile twisted his lips, pulling them tight as he looked up. “You really are settling into your role here, aren’t you, Ed?”

And there he was, smiling with equal measure, joy bursting out of Oswald's heart as a result. He felt it spill across the floor, the water from a broken dam. “And yet I still have so much to learn from you.”

He floated, singing under his breath, outrageous pain and joy spewing from his stomach at Ed’s simple smile.

_“He floats me with dread.”_

“I came up empty tracking down Butch.” And, all at once, the life drained from him and he sagged like a puppet without strings. “Somehow, that one-handed ape managed to disappear. I suspect he’s hiding with his old crew.”

Oswald nodded, feigning some remorse. He wasn’t sure why. What did Butch matter when Ed was there, light pouring over his skin, highlighting the curve of his lips and the furrow in his brow? What Oswald wouldn’t give to kiss that face stupid.

He tried, arms desperately clawing out for contact, but they were soon restrained to their formal position by his sides.

“I’m sorry for letting you down.”

_“Soaked in soul, he swims in my eyes by the bed.”_

“You have done nothing of the sort. I would be lost without you.” He smiled. Despite such a dark ache the words had brought, he was confident he would never have to suffer without Ed.

He’d bring the city to its knees before he’d let that happen.

_“Pour myself over him.”_

“In fact, um,” Oswald chokes around the consonants, confused at his own hesitation. Surely, Ed knows this by now? How could he not? “There is something that I-I need to tell you. Something very important.”

_“Moon spilling in.”_

“What is it, Oswald?”

It wouldn’t spill, the words, so many words, clogging up his throat. He choked on them, searching desperately for air. His arm reached out, grasping at Ed’s image even as he floated away. Or perhaps it was Oswald who was sinking further out of sight?

Blood blossomed in the water, he was flowers at a gravesite, battered by rain and wind, drying and withering into nothing but weeds. 

He needed to get to Ed, needed to tell him the truth, needed to make him listen.

“Ed, I love you. I know you believe that now.” He couldn’t tell if the words were real or just another wish bubbling to the surface.

_“And I wake up…”_

He was tired of not knowing the difference. He was tired of being-

_“Alone.”_

♠ ♠ ♠

“Oswald?”

His eyes flickered open, a disgruntled sigh escaping him when, again, all he could see was _black._

“Ed?” he croaked, a hand reaching out to ascertain the other man’s presence. A warm hand gripped his own, and Oswald allowed himself a small smile.

“I came back with your water, and you were asleep,” Ed explained quietly, his voice low and warm like a cat’s purr.

“Thank you,” Oswald replied hoarsely, smiling gratefully as he felt his fingers come in contact with cold, slippery glass.

“You're welcome,” Ed replied, voice steady. Oswald sighed happily as he felt a hand smooth over his brow. “You were mumbling in your sleep again.”

“I've always done it.” Oswald shrugged. “It used to drive Mother insane.” He smiled wistfully at the memory, his heart panging a little in his chest. “So, what was I saying?”

“I couldn't make out much,” Ed admitted. Oswald held out his now-empty glass before making an effort to sit up properly, grunting as his head accidentally knocked against something. “You did say ‘alone’ though.”

Oswald shrugged, his jacket scraping against the velvet behind him. “That sounds about right.”

“Really?” A gentle hand suddenly warmed his knee and Oswald didn't hesitate before reaching down and tracing it with his own. “Do you feel alone, Oswald?”

“Not when you're around, no,” Oswald told him, continuing to draw circles across Ed's skin absentmindedly. “But it's harder now since all I get to see of you is in my dreams.”

“You can see me in your dreams?” Ed asked.

“Sort of,” Oswald considered, “it's more like I'm remembering you, actually. At least, I think it is. Most of the time.”

“What did you remember?” Ed asked, rather croaky sounding himself.

“Nothing much, I'm afraid,” Oswald sighed. “You were upset because you thought you had disappointed me. Rather ridiculous, considering the fact you could never disappoint me.”

“That's all?” Ed persisted.

“I think so,” Oswald hummed. It was all rather dismal, a sluggish pace of a snail that wouldn't let up. If only there was someone who could tamper with his memories a little, who _knew_ what they were doing.

What he was doing.

“I think I have an idea,” Oswald announced, smirking at his own genius. “Hugo Strange. He’s tampered with my memories once, he can do it again.”

“S-Strange?”

“Yes. He has experience, and he’ll know better than to cross me,” Oswald affirmed smugly.

“A-are you sure that’s a good idea, Oswald? I mean, how would we even find him?”

“Fish knows where he is. I find Fish, I find Strange,” Oswald assured him.

“How can you be sure that they’re still working together? I don’t suspect Fish would have any use for him now she’s healed.”

“Fish is healed?” Oswald asked, eyebrows raising. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I-I didn’t--I mean, I’m not _sure_ , I just suspected that maybe-” Ed stuttered out.

“No matter,” Oswald sighed. “I don’t have the capacity to consider Fish as a threat right now. Still, we need Strange.”

“But, Oswald,” Oswald felt two hands grip his shoulders. “I-I don’t trust Strange. Not after what he did to you in Arkham. I-I c-can’t.”

“Ed, I understand, but this feeling I have… it’s like I’m missing something important, like I might be in danger, like we _both_ are. I _need_ to remember.”

“O-Oswald, please,” breaths stuttered against Oswald’s cheek as Edward leaned in. “You’ve already come so far. I’m sure it won’t be long until your memories resurface. And what about your sight? If you have Strange messing around in your head, you might lose your sight forever. Surely, you don’t want that.”

“Perhaps not,” Oswald allowed, sighing as he stood up from the couch, bones creaking. “I just want this to be over so we can go back to the way things were.”

“I know,” Ed whispered, his long arms winding around Oswald to pull him into a hug. “I want that too.”

Oswald smiled, allowing himself to relax into their hug, soaking up Ed’s scent with a happy smile. He sighed, turning to bury his head in the crook of Ed’s neck, pressing a light kiss there.

“Oswald,” Ed warned, stiffening in his grasp.

“Come now, Eddie,” Oswald purred, moving to wind his arms around the taller man’s neck. “It’s just a kiss.”

“We--I… We don’t usually-- _um_ \--in the office,” Ed explained.

“Really?” Oswald asked. “Because I doubt that, even with a reputation to uphold, I’d resist the temptation to have _the_ Edward Nygma over a desk.”

“I- Uh- I, erm.” Oswald smiled at his previously hidden talent of rendering Edward Nygma speechless. “I-I don’t suppose one kiss will be sufficient?”

“Two and then it’s a deal,” Oswald bartered with a grin.

“Two it is, then,” Ed agreed.

Oswald tilted his head up, drowning in Ed's gasp before their lips finally connected. Like a sunken ship, Oswald gave into the tide, reaching up to clasp the back of Ed's head in his hands. Feeling Ed's lips part, he dipped his tongue inside, deepening the waters as he explored uncharted territory. He brushed against the roof of Ed's mouth, feeling the man shudder in response, hands kneading Oswald’s arms like dough.

“W-was it too-” Oswald began, pulling away from Ed a little as he tried to catch his breath.

“You said, two kisses, I want two kisses,” Ed demanded, cutting Oswald off.

“Well, a deal’s a deal,” Oswald whispered back impishly, grinning just before his lips were captured by Ed’s once more. Babbling brook sounds escaped their chests, cresting over one another in a titillating backtrack. Oswald moved in closer, gripping Ed harder. Sparks ignited Oswald’s insides, every nerve electrified. Ed’s hands began to roam, and Oswald was remade as a house of cards during a thunderstorm.

Wireframes dented Oswald’s skin, but he didn’t mind, not with Ed whimpering into his mouth in the way he was supposed to do, not with an impossibility beneath his fingertips.

But soon, (far too soon) Oswald was forced to edge away, if only to allow himself to breathe and ensure he wouldn’t accidentally pass out (again).

Ed exhaled sharply, the huff of breath almost harsh against Oswald’s skin. Oswald’s gut clenched as he tried to picture what Ed’s face looked like. No glimmers of recollection came, try as he might. He was forced to hope that he looked somewhat debauched, and at least as happy as Oswald felt whenever they were as close as this.

Heavy breathing continued to soak the air, the mutual silence slowly growing between them.

“That was two kisses,” Oswald said eventually, struggling to find a way to break the strange tension he could feel between them. He’d hoped to evoke some kind of action, picturing Ed pulling him into his arms and making do on Oswald’s fantasy of fucking over a centuries-old desk. Instead, Oswald felt a small rush of air as Ed took a hurried step back, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Y-yes, well, I-I think it’s best that-that we get back to work. At least, I need to. Y-you can’t. But, if you need me…”

“Of course,” Oswald replied, a little disappointed by this outcome, but understanding nonetheless. It may feel like a honeymoon phase to Oswald, desperate and eager to spend as much time with Ed as possible, but for Ed, he and Oswald had been together for at least a month or so. Clearly, their relationship had settled into something more comfortable where physical contact wasn’t required twenty-four seven.

“Oh, and before I forget…” Ed’s voice ignited a spark of hope in Oswald’s chest, his breath catching as he waited for Ed to finish. “-does your bandage feel okay? I was told I’d need to change it after each time you rest because it might get loose. Does it feel loose?”

Not in the slightest.

“I think so,” Oswald ventured, subtly reaching his hand behind his back to tug at the bandage through his shirt, feeling it stretch and pull. “Would you be able to change it for me?”

“Of course!” Ed exclaimed. “I even brought everything for it with me, just in case.”

“I can always count on you, friend,” Oswald agreed, shifting a little as he wondered how far he was from the nearest chair.

“Y-yes.” As if anticipating Oswald’s thoughts, Ed’s hand took hold of his shoulder and slowly guided him to sit down on something solid. Without preamble, Oswald’s hands went to his shirt buttons, popping them open one by one unceremoniously. Silents hands unwound the bandage, the slight pressure around his stomach and lower rib cage easing in a matter of moments and making Oswald sigh. Fingers delicately swept over his skin, making Oswald shiver as they presumably checked for any tearing or reopening of Oswald’s steadily healing wound.

Edward always seemed to withdraw a little when they did this, his mind not nearly as present and forefront than usual. Facts and figures didn’t spill from his lips, no riddles or wordplay. Just a pensive silence that clogged Oswald’s throat and made him pray to any God that was listening that he could just _see_ what Ed’s expression looked like so he might understand for once what thoughts were racing through his head.

“You know this isn’t your fault, right?” Oswald whispered, breaking the silence without remorse. Ed’s hand trembled where it rested on Oswald’s side, securing the flap of the new bandage.

“You don’t know that, Oswald,” he whispered back, something breathy and guttural in his voice making Oswald shudder and his heart thud.

“Yes, I do,” Oswald responded firmly, brokering no argument. “I know you. You’re a good man, Edward, a far better one than me.”

“Oswald, please, don’t-”

“It’s true,” Oswald insisted emphatically, wishing he could just level his gaze at Ed and _make_ him believe it. Ed remained silent, but Oswald could hear him breathing, the stuttering exhales whisking down his bare chest and making him shiver.

“Oswald,” he croaked. “What… What always come too late?”

Oswald’s mouth pulled down in a frown, his brow furrowing. “Is this another riddle, or..?”

_Knock, knock, knock._

“Just a minute!” Ed called, high-pitched and rushed as lightning-fast fingers finished their work and helped Oswald into his shirt. It at least made Oswald smile as he realized how slow and gentle Ed had been before in comparison.

“Ah, Laurence,” Ed’s voice dipped into something more morose. “What do you want?”

“Just checking in,” Laurence replied. “Wanted to see how our Mister Mayor was doing.”

“He’s fine,” Ed snapped. He seemed to take a deep breath before continuing. “Is there anything else you need, Laurence?”

“Uh, yes, sir,” Laurence stammered. “A-a package came for you, and I wasn’t sure what to…”

“Oh,” Ed’s tone notably changed, the hint of a smile in his voice. “I‘ll deal with that. Just give me and the Mayor a minute to finish up.”

“Okay.” The door closed and they were left alone again.

“I don’t remember a Laurence,” Oswald finally said.

“Ah, yes, well, Laurence is relatively new,” Ed explained. “They’re my new deputy.”

“What happened to Tarquin?” Oswald asked curiously.

“He’s dead,” Ed answered shortly.

“How?” Oswald asked.

“Well… You killed him,” Ed explained.

“Oh,” Oswald hummed, contemplating it for a moment before merely shrugging. “That makes sense, I guess. I never liked him. It was probably only a matter of time before he did something to bring that on.”

“Y-yes,” Ed cleared his throat. “I-I suppose so.”

“What’s the package you have?” Oswald asked, redirecting the line of inquiry.

“You’ll soon find out,” Ed told him, his voice lilting between something cheeky and teasing. “Now, do you need anything else?”

“No, no,” Oswald dismissed happily. “Go ahead.”

“I shall,” Ed concluded. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Good,” Oswald smiled, narrowly resisting the urge to wave like a schoolgirl goodbye-ing her crush. He hummed to himself, a familiar tune that he couldn’t quite place.

The door closing sounded through the room and Oswald was left alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woop! Excited? More is coming, so hang around :) 
> 
> Also: All comments/kudos are appreciated. And appreciated is an amazing word.
> 
> And I should probably go to bed.


	3. Drip For Him Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward should know by now; when Oswald wants something, he'll do whatever it takes to get it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo.... Originally, I thought this would be a funny idea but I didn't think I'd actually use it. But it just seemed to make a perfect transition between this chapter and the next, so I just went for it. It's not exactly a plotty chapter, but oh well, hope you like it :)

“Are you ready to go?”

“I’ve been sitting in this same chair with nothing to do for at least two hours, _please_ release me from this misery,” Oswald groaned, already finding the lip of his desk to support himself as he stood.

“It’s your fault all this took me so long. If you hadn’t kept distracting me…” Ed admonished, the sound of shuffling papers following his words.

“Can we just go home? You can continue this little reprimand in the car,” Oswald said, failing to repress a yawn. “Or, if you’re patient, in the bedroom.”

The sound of multiple books and papers crashing to the floor echoed around the room and Oswald laughed.

“Not funny,” Ed muttered, closely followed by the sound of paper ends knocking against wood.

“I think you’re wrong, my friend,” Oswald quipped, holding out his arm. There was a large, heartfelt sigh before Ed latched onto it, guiding Oswald out from behind his desk begrudgingly. Although, admittedly, Oswald had rather disliked the idea of needing to be directed everywhere at first, he found he quite liked this feeling of being allowed to touch Ed, of his advances being wanted.

They made it out the door, down the stairs and to the car without any fuss, climbing into the vehicle with twin sighs of relief, acknowledging the final end to the day. The ride back was quiet enough, although Oswald had hoped Ed would indulge him in some casual touching, perhaps a hand holding his own across the leather seats, but Edward seemed oddly aloof. Oswald decided to simply ask him about it later.

Dinner was ready for them as soon as they walked through the front door, Olga taking their coats before ordering them into the dining room. The air was warm there, and Oswald could hear the quiet crackle of the fire as he sat down in his chair under Ed’s assistance.

“Shall we go over the week’s schedule?” Edward asked beside him.

“Sure,” Oswald agreed, waving his hand like a conductor.

“Good.” A rustle of papers before Ed cleared his throat and began. “As I said before, tomorrow should be a quiet day, so we can just stay at home and you can rest.”

“Mhm.” Oswald brushed his fingertips over the tablecloth, searching and stretching until his fingers connected with cool metal.

“I suspect we will be able to maintain that for most of the week, however…”

Concentrating, Oswald felt along the objects, smiling to himself when he encountered four blunt prongs.

“...You do have another dinner coming up, a big one in fact…”

Picking the fork up with one hand, Oswald used the other to go exploring again, encountering his plate and circling around it in search of…

“...The Beneficiary Ball, I believe it’s called…”

His knife! Excellent. Taking it in hand, Oswald gently tapped it and its mate along the table until he found…

“...Although, who it’s _really_ benefiting…”

...his plate. Taking a shot in the dark, he felt around until his knife connected with something on the plate.

“...Is rather up for negotiation. Although...”

Using his knife to steady the object, Oswald aimed with his fork and stabbed lightly, hoping for the best.

“...They’ve let slip of a supposed ‘special guest of honour’. What makes them special…”

Not patient enough to go to any more trouble, Oswald simply lifted his fork up and directed it to his open mouth.

“...I don’t know, but they’re meant to be a surprise for the gu--Oswald, what are you doing?”

Oswald coughed around what seemed to be a _very_ hot potato, trying his best to chew it quickly without letting it touch the roof of his mouth or burn his tongue. “Eating,” he explained as he finally swallowed. “It’s, uh, very hot.” Oswald kind of wished he had a glass of water.

“Here.” Ed grabbed his hand and thrust a cool glass into it, and Oswald drank from it gratefully.

“Wow, look at you… anticipating my needs,” Oswald snipped between swallows. “You really are my boyfriend.” Ed remained silent as Oswald drank until there was nothing left. “There isn’t any gravy on the table, is there?”

“There is.” Oswald sighed, putting his glass back onto the table. “Here.” Oswald flinched as something touched his lips.

“Ed, no.” Oswald pushed the fork away, wrinkling his nose when his fingers pushed against something warm and squishy.

Ed sighed. “I just want to help.”

“How am I supposed to learn to function by myself if you’re always helping me? I need to learn to eat, especially if I’m supposed to keep up this act for the public,” Oswald reasoned.

“You’re right,” Ed agreed regretfully. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Oswald sighed. “You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

Ed didn’t say anything to that either.

“Come now, Ed,” Oswald encouraged, leaning over to press his shoulder to him. “Why don’t you tell me something interesting and eat some dinner, hmm?”

“Alright,” Ed agreed, tone brightened. 

Fortunately, the mood remained light from there, Ed beginning to pose a few complicated riddles for Oswald to solve. The puzzles continued over into dessert, a delicious chocolate bavarian which was thankfully easy enough for Oswald to eat. Most of Oswald’s answers were utter failures, but it was worth it just to hear Ed’s delighted laughter or the way his words tumbled over each other like an excited toddler as he explained things.

Oswald felt like he always got so caught up with _looking_ at Ed, luminous brown eyes and high cheekbones endlessly distracting, that he often missed the way Ed's voice got higher and higher as his excitement grew, all of the different timbres of laughter he could give out depending on what he’d found funny, the dramatic flair delivered with every riddle. Oswald tried to match the pictures of Ed in his head with how he was feeling now, recalling how happy and boisterous Ed had been when Oswald had first stayed with him in his apartment, before Arkham had appeared to drain some of that away.

Oswald felt immensely happy to hear some of that joy restored again. Ed had seemed so sad ever since he’d woken up. Oswald didn’t ever want him to have to feel that way again.

“Are you finished?” Ed asked politely, his metal spoon scraping loudly against his plate.

“Yes, thank you,” Oswald nodded, leaning back happily with a contented sigh. China clinked as plates and cutlery were removed.

“Are you tired?” Ed asked, a concerned hand warming Oswald's shoulder.

“Not particularly,” Oswald replied, stretching his legs out beneath the table.

“Well, I think that it's best that you get some rest anyway. Your body has been working extra hard to heal you, so-”

“Oh, Ed,” Oswald interrupted, rolling his eyes. “My body's always working hard.”

Silence.

“I'm joking, Ed. But I see what you mean,” Oswald clarified.

“Oh, yes, of course. Um, perhaps we should, uh, retire. I could, um, run you a bath,” Ed stammered.

“That would be lovely, Edward, thank you,” Oswald replied, rather bemused.

“Here, let me…” Ed helped him out of his seat, Oswald happily latching onto him as Ed steered them out of the dining room and to the staircase.

Upstairs, in his room, Oswald allowed himself to be sat down, contentedly waiting as Ed moved into the adjoining bathroom. The water ran, the sound loud in the relative peace. Despite his wishes that he could take care of all these things by himself, there was something remarkably sweet and domestic about letting Ed take control for once. Ed seemed to know what he was doing, and Oswald trusted him implicitly.

“Do you need help taking off your bandage?” Ed asked, coming back into the room.

“I think so,” Oswald nodded. “And thank you for asking.”

Ed didn’t say anything, but Oswald imagined he’d graced him with one of his sweet, abashed-looking smiles. 

Doing his best to make things easier, Oswald unbuttoned his shirt and waistcoat, letting them hang open for a moment before pulling the garments off entirely. Ed seemed to have come closer, the soft breeze of breath brushing against Oswald’s skin, warming him.

There was an intimacy in these moments, where it was just them, no chance of interruptions, Oswald’s weaknesses laid bare to Ed’s knowing gaze.

Slow hands came up, gently gliding over Oswald’s skin before beginning to unravel the bandage. Oswald struggled to maintain a normal breathing pattern, his heart stuttering in his chest.

“I like it when you’re close to me like this,” Oswald whispered, choked and croaky, a back-alley confession owned by the night.

Ed’s breath stuttered against his cheek as the bandages fell away. Fingers ghosted over skin, just barely circling the injury. “I’m-”

“It’s not your fault,” Oswald told him immediately, hands coming up to tangle his fingers with Ed’s. “You did your best to save me. And I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Ed whispered. “Yes, you are here.”

Oswald smiled, untangling one hand from Ed’s to run his fingers up his arm, over rumpled-rolled up sleeves to his shoulder, then neck, until he was cupping Ed’s cheek and brushing his thumb over soft lips, the tip of his index finger connecting with Ed’s wireframe glasses. Not hesitating, Oswald leant forward and captured those lips with his own. All at once, his bones shivered delight and he leaned in closer, moving his hand up to push through Ed’s hair. Ed let out a small delectable noise that Oswald chased open-mouthed and hungry. Hesitant lips pushed back, Ed gently suckling on Oswald’s bottom lip, sending him into a tailspin of whining gasps. His heart thumped a long, loud rhythm of _closer, closer, closer_ , and Oswald gave in without resistance, pushing his tongue inside Ed’s mouth in a quest for further bone shakings and spine tingles.

Ed didn’t disappoint, a groan curling from his throat to make Oswald’s breaths quicken, inhaling and exhaling sharply through his nose, not nearly willing to part from Ed for something as insignificant as breathing.

Oswald’s other hand reached up to clutch at Ed’s shirtfront, keeping him close. Ed’s glasses slipped down his nose until they were practically resting on Oswald’s. Ed was sucking on his tongue now, and Oswald was struggling to keep himself bottled, sounds threatening to spill out the edges of his lips like a bathtub overflowing. Ed’s hand were curled around his lips, pulling him in closer there until there were completely pressed together, and it was getting harder and harder to breathe, and Oswald was definitely making embarrassing sounds now, and everything was-

_Wait._

A bathtub overflowing. _A bathtub overflowing._

“Ed,” Oswald gasped, pulling away just enough to speak.

“Hmm?” Ed hummed noncommittally, his lips capturing Oswald’s once more.

“Ed, the bath!” Oswald insisted, pulling away once more.

“What are you talk-” Ed’s voice cut off with a small choking sound as the situation finally dawned on him. “Oh dear.”

There was a rush of air as all contact was removed and Ed’s feet pounded towards the bathroom. Oswald tipped back onto the bed and laid there, struggling to regain his breath. Inexplicably, a giggle rose up from his chest and he began to laugh, shaking his head deprecatingly at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Ed’s footsteps soon returned, padding along the carpet until he reached the bed again. Oswald quietened, waiting for his verdict.

“It’s, uh, fine. I-I managed to turn the water off before anything… Um, I think it’s best that you…” Ed trailed off. Oswald raised an eyebrow.

“You’re gonna have to finish your sentence, Ed.”

“Oh, right, um… perhaps it’s best th-that you have your bath now. Th-the water isn’t so hot, so…” Ed cleared his throat. 

Not entirely sure what to say about Ed’s behaviour, Oswald opted for a simple “Thank you,” before standing and making his way to the bathroom.

“I-It’s just-” Oswald turned, furrowing his brow in Ed’s general direction. “W-We can’t--I _shouldn’t_ \--You have to understand, I-” Ed cut himself off with another sigh. “Never mind.”

Oswald’s brow lowered even further. He wished he could decipher what it was Ed wanted to say, but with only his voice to go on it was just impossible. 

“Okay,” Oswald said hesitantly, turning again and heading to the bathroom--only to smack his shoulder hard against the door frame. “Mother-”

“Oswald!” Ed exclaimed, rushing to his side.

“I’m fine,” Oswald gritted out.

“O-okay, but can I help you w-with anything, or-” Ed stuttered.

“No, no. I’m fine,” Oswald assured him, making his way into the bathroom, feeling along the wall with the tips of fingers.

“O-okay,” Ed replied, still sounding uneasy. Oswald hesitantly stepped around until he found the edge of the tub, smiling to himself.

“You can go now, Ed,” Oswald reminded him with a smile, noticing the other man loitering.

“O-okay, I’ll just-” Clearing his throat, Ed shut the door, leaving Oswald alone once more.

Until the door opened again.

“Um, just remember, it’s okay to-to wash the wound, as long as you be gentle, and I’ve left the antibacterial soap there by the tub, a-and-”

“Ed it’s fine,” Oswald assured him.

“O-okay, well, I’ll just-” The door closed. Oswald waited for several moments before he was sure Ed was actually gone this time.

As Oswald began to undress, he thought back on Ed’s strange behaviour over the night. How happy he’d been at dinner, how sad he’d seemed when taking off Oswald’s bandages. How _good_ it had felt to kiss him, how Ed had gasped into his mouth and sucked on his tongue, how he’d pressed against Oswald like he craved his body just the same.

 _God_. Oswald wondered how far it could have gone, _would_ have gone if it hadn’t been for his own idiotic mouth bringing up the bath. Who cared if his bathroom flooded and he needed to spend weeks repairing his house--it would have been completely worth it just to have Ed there with him, hands pulling Oswald closer and closer, clothes falling away until it was just skin against skin, hips bucking and bodies burning.

Oswald shivered, silently chastising himself as he stepped into the warm tub. Still, Ed’s brain _had_ seemed pretty scrambled after that kiss, and he did seem oddly hesitant to leave Oswald alone. Oswald frowned, reaching along the sides of the tub until he found the soap.

Perhaps he was thinking about this all wrong. Perhaps it was _Oswald_ who was acting strangely. Afterall, he and Edward hadn’t exactly discussed certain aspects of their relationship. Who knew what he was forgetting?

What was it that Ed had said? They didn’t usually do ‘those things’ in the office. Did that mean they did them at home? After dinner, and before they fell asleep in one other’s arms. Perhaps when Oswald would bathe, Ed would… Join him? 

Oswald bit his lip, his toes curling against the edge of the tub.

Yes, Ed would definitely join him. They’d lounge against one another as they washed the other’s body, hands moving slowly--drawing it out. Perhaps slipping lower, _lower_ …

Oswald cleared his throat, eyes snapping open again. He needed to stop doing that.

Refocusing his attention, Oswald began to wash properly, remembering to be gentle over the bullet so he didn’t break the thin, newly formed skin. Feeling satisfied and beginning to shiver from the cooling water, Oswald extracted himself from the tub and began to feel around in search of a towel to dry himself with. He couldn’t find one.

With a sigh, Oswald gave up, choosing instead to head for the door. He opened it, walking through--only to slam straight into something solid.

“Wha--Ed?” Oswald questioned, hands coming up to clutch at him instinctively.

“S-sorry, I was-” Ed cleared his throat awkwardly, his hands coming up to steady Oswald too. “Oh. O-Oswald… you’re all wet.”

“I couldn't find a towel,” Oswald explained, stepping back a little as his hand brushed over Ed's clothed chest.

“Oh, s-sorry, I-I forgot to bring you one.” 

Oswald hummed, dragging his hand down the damp fabric plastered to Ed's pectorals. “You're rather soaked, yourself, Edward,” he drawled.

“You're _dripping_ ,” Ed told him in a harsh whisper.

“Perhaps you should take your shirt off,” Oswald suggested, not waiting for a reply as he began to undo the shirt buttons.

“I-I-I- no, I-I can do it,” Ed told him, brushing Oswald's hands away.

“But wouldn't you rather I did it for you?” Oswald purred, fisting Ed's shirt collar and pulling him in. Oswald's lips found Ed's, pressing hungry and persistent, sucking Ed's bottom lip into his mouth and worrying it with his teeth.

One moment Ed was gasping, a needy whimper on his breath, the next; he was gone. Oswald stood there, admittedly frustrated whilst Ed began to babble.

“You're, um, y-you need some-some pyjamas, a-and a bandage change, a-and a towel, a-and some _clothes_.”

“Ed it's-”

“B-but towel first. You-you probably want to dry… off… your body,” Ed continued clumsily.

“Well-”

“Wh-what gets wetter the longer it dries?” Ed asked, rapid fire.

“I don't-”

“A towel,” Ed exclaimed, over-enthusiastically. “I-I’ll just… go get one.”

Oswald just stood there, at a loss for words as Ed's hurried footsteps reached the door and slammed it behind him.

Well, that was certainly… _unexpected_.

Perhaps Oswald had done it wrong. Perhaps that wasn’t how they played the game. Maybe Edward like to be seduced, _enticed_ , convinced into it with touches, fingers brushing and lips colliding until all he wanted was _more_.

Well if that was what Ed wanted, Oswald would be happy to give it to him.

The door creaked open.

“I’ve--uh--got your towel, so, you can just-” Ed coughed, voice drawing nearer.

“Thank you,” Oswald quipped, reaching his hands out. His fingers accidentally brushed warm skin before something fluffy was hurriedly shoved into his palms. Trying his best not to smirk, and hopefully succeeding, Oswald began to towel himself off, exaggerating the stretch of his muscles, moving slowly and methodically.

“Is my hair dry enough?” Oswald asked, fluttering his eyelashes a little.

“Y-yes, I think so,” Ed’s voice cracked. “P-perhaps w-we could move on?”

“If you say so,” Oswald agreed readily.

“You-you should get dressed, and then _I’ll_ -” Ed began.

“I thought you were going to change my bandage?” Oswald prompted.

“Uh, y-yes, but surely you-” Ed stammered.

“Well, there’s no point in me putting any clothes on until that’s done,” Oswald reasoned, smiling innocently (which proved to be surprisingly difficult whilst standing in a room, completely naked).

“I-I-” Ed cleared his throat again. “If-if that’s what you want.”

“It is,” Oswald replied serenely. Without needing to be told, he made his way towards his bed, flopping down when the covers brushed his bare knees. The bed dipped beside him and Edward hesitantly touched Oswald’s shoulder.

“I don’t think you’ll need proper bandages anymore,” Ed stated. “They were just to keep the wound clean, but it’s smaller now and there’s enough skin that I think it’s safe to just use a plaster now. Albeit a big one, of course.”

“Right.” Oswald licked his lips.

“S-so, it might need changing more often in case it comes loose, but it’ll be easier for you to do so.”

“Good.” Oswald waited, expectantly.

“Oh, right.”

Oswald let himself tune out a little, listening to Ed’s slightly uneven breaths as his skin was wiped with something smelling strong and antibacterial. Then, sure hands pressed something against his skin, smoothing it down to be sure it stuck.

“Done,” Ed announced, voice still breathy.

“Thank you, Edward,” Oswald purred, before leaning forward, one hand on Ed's knee, the other gripping his shoulder, and capturing Ed's lips. He was a little off, but made it work, teasing the corner of Ed's mouth before pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“O-Oswald, I-I really think that-” Ed tried, hands resting on Oswald's shoulders.

“Think what?” Oswald hummed, trailing kisses down the edge of Ed's jaw before licking a stripe up Ed's pulse point. It beat wildly against his tongue, throbbing, and he could hear Ed's sharp intake of breath from above. “I want you, Ed,” he whispered, straightening his spine to carve the words in his ear. The hand on Ed's knee moved higher, thumb running along the inseam of his trousers daringly. “I know you want me too.”

Like a summer tornado, Ed was up, ripping himself out of Oswald’s grasp, tearing away. Oswald resisted the urge to chuckle because he wasn’t entirely sure why he wanted to.

“Look, uh, Oswald, I-I know I said before… a-about us being together, b-but… _it-was-early-days_ , and I know you can’t remember anything, and you’re still not healed properly, and I’d feel wrong if I-” Ed babbled, words twisting and tumbling like a circus show-boy.

“That’s alright,” Oswald told him, interrupting his startling soliloquy.

“R-really?”

“Of course,” Oswald assured. In as sweeping a move as Oswald could manage, he tipped backward to lay across the bedcovers, reaching his arms out to the side leisurely, like an old cat having a stretch. Somewhere in the room, Ed’s breathing audibly shuddered.

“Wha--well,” Ed cleared his throat as Oswald’s head tipped back. “I-I-” Oswald slowly dragged the palms of his hands down his front, _just_ brushing his nipples teasingly with a gasp, then continuing down and settling them so his fingers _just_ curled between his thighs. This was a show, and they’d only begun the first act. “-Don't suppose you’ll be needing me anymo-”

“But, I do need you,” Oswald told him, letting the words curl from the part of his throat where relaxed moments and sultry somethings both came to lay their heads. Words could be steam engines of want, all he needed was to stoke the fire and fan the flames and off they’d go.

His fingers flexed, stroking his thighs, soft and intimate. Tease.

“What for?” Ed asked, quiet and hesitant, like gulps and swallows before one confessed their sins and felt their soul spill out.

“What do you think, Ed?” Oswald huffed, not rolling his eyes but _very nearly rolling his eyes._ His fingers fluttered, just a little bit, swirling against skin to keep that knife-edge spine-tingling near. Brushed one hand up, over his hip, _reaching_ , and then snapping back into place like it never happened. Tease.

“I th-think you should probably go to sleep,” Ed advised, hurried and frantic, just like their breaths mingling in the space between them. “Oswald.”

“I’m not tired,” Oswald countered. “Ed.” His hand slipped up again, drawing _closecloseclose_ before diverting its path up and away. His fingers spread over his ribs, fluttering, waiting for the next move. They were merely pawns in this strategist’s chess game.

“Still,” Ed insisted, and Oswald could just see him wringing his hands and shifting his eyes away.

“In fact,” Oswald continued, talking over any further protests Ed might’ve had. “I don’t think I even _could_ get to sleep,” Oswald commented. His hand roamed, steering itself on autopilot, shivers chattering Oswald’s bones. Rolled his thumb over one nipple, snapping to pinch the other. He was breathless. “I’m too…” His other hand finally gave in, wrapped around himself and _pulled_. A gasp, that sunbeam feeling of perfect sensation, friction just where he needed it. “...Distracted.” He’d let it go on too long, had resisted all temptation, and the return of feeling was stronger than ever, rolling and pulling like a taffy machine. It would take long for things to heat up and the glucose to reach breaking point

He couldn’t wait to obliterate.

“Oswald-” Ed cut off with a gasp as Oswald pushed up into his hand, abandoning all sense of propriety because that was getting him nowhere. “I… I should-”

“Stay,” Oswald cut in ruthlessly, opening his eyes in an attempt at eye-contact, but there was no way of knowing whether or not he was successful. “You should stay.” He bit his lip, teeth digging in hard as his hand twisted in a particularly brilliant way, a groan pushing from his chest. “I want you here.” 

The doorknob turned, sickeningly loud in the quietness of the room. 

“Please, Edward,” Oswald begged, the desperation for _something_ leaking in.

Ed’s breathing somehow grew heavier, but the doorknob wasn’t turning, and that was all that mattered.

“Please, Ed,” it was more of groan now, Oswald’s hand still twisting and pulling in delicious ways that clouded his mind and lowered his inhibitions even further.

“Y-you keep saying my name like that,” Ed almost whined, something _thunk-_ ing against wood as Ed whimpered. Oswald’s head snapped back and his hands sped up, stroking himself harder now, twisting his nipples desperate and quick.

“P-please, Ed,” Oswald gasped. “I-I’m close.” He could feel it growing at the base of his spine, felt flames licking against his skin, all of it festering beneath Ed’s gaze, growing in strength to push Oswald closer and closer to the edge.

“O-Oswald, y-you’re making me… making me a little…” Ed’s words seemed to unstring like pearls ripped from a necklace, priceless pieces falling to the ground in dramatic slow-motion to roll beneath desks and drawers, hiding themselves away.

“E-Ed, j-just…” Oswald gasped and gasped, all the air seemed to flee the room at once. His rhythm grew frantic, chest heaving and hips rolling in riptides and tidal waves. “Please, Ed, just… kiss me.”

“You… You want me to kiss you?”

“Y-yes.” God, it was like his mind was breaking apart, Pangaea at the end of its reign.

“A-are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Oswald repeated, his intention being exasperation but it came out more desperate than he’d hoped. “Just… Please, Ed.”

“O-okay.” And thank fucking god, Edward was suddenly above him, hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him into a kiss. Oswald groaned, pushing up against Ed, unashamed. Ed was shaking, hands clawing at his skin like a caged animal, teeth digging into his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

He felt Ed harden against him, and it was all he needed to be sent over the edge. He gasped and groaned, shaking in Ed’s arms as waves of heat flooded his skin, blanking out his brain. He broke away from Ed’s kiss, heart a tumble, the sky falling, everything over sensitized.

“Oh, Oswald,” Ed spoke, words disjointed with sensations.

“-You have-” the silent shakings of an Earthquake, slaying him to the ground without a sword but with the shake of its head.

“-No idea-” Sounds, warbled and high like a songbird, pouring from him like liquid, unbidden.

“-How much I’ve-” Ed, holding him, cherishing him, the taste of him on Oswald’s lips, surrounding him, churning his inside like a cauldron.

“-Wanted this.” Oswald opened his eyes, actually allowing a frisson of hope into his heart, the image of Ed curled around him so clear in his mind. But, alas, nothing but _**black.**_

“Ed,” he whispered, the name tasting sweet on his tongue despite the disappointment, a smile curling his lip.

“I… I’m not quite sure what to…” Ed tailed off.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Oswald offered, reaching his hand out.

Suddenly, the weight was off him, and Ed withdrew back into his shielded cloaks and fox-furs.

“I’d rather you--please just--don’t-”

“It’s okay, I won’t,” Oswald assured him calmly. “Not ever unless you want me to.”

“Th-thank you.”

There was a moment of silence, neither of them making a move to do or say anything.

“Perhaps,” Oswald began. “You should go back to your room and change.”

“R-right,” Ed agreed softly--perhaps, even, disappointedly?

“And then,” Oswald continued. “You might be so kind as to join me?”

“I-in your bed?” Ed stuttered. Oswald could practically see him push his glasses up his nose with that beautiful doe-eyed look. He just wished he _could_ see it.

“To sleep,” Oswald explained. “You seemed happy to last night, so I wondered if you’d still be… amenable to the idea tonight.”

“Uhh,” Ed hesitated.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Oswald assured him, resisting the urge to fidget nervously. “I completely understand.”

“No, no I do want to stay with you,” Ed clarified quickly. “I’ll just… go grab my things.”

“Okay,” Oswald agreed happily, not worried in the least this time when he heard the doorknob turn.

And if Ed took a _little_ bit longer than expected to return, who was Oswald to judge?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. That's a thing that happened. Okay. Anyway, the next chapter will be along soon enough (perhaps sooner than you think). Until then, any and all kudos/comments are greatly appreciated :) Have a swell weekend, my friends :)


	4. That Silent Sense of Content

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward is acting weirder and weirder. Oswald just wants to make sense of it all and _remember_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, bitch! It's been just over a day and I'm posting again. I actually waited until I'd finished this chapter before posting the previous one so I could post them closer together, just because the last one didn't have as much plot as I would have liked. This one definitely has some plot. And mood changes. And something else there in the middle. Also Jim Gordon.
> 
> And it's 1:02 am now. Lol, oh well. Enjoy!

_Water_. 

It clogged his veins, bulged his eyes, tore his skin. He was festering, putrefying, lumps of flesh peeling off him. Rotting away at the bottom of the river.

_“He's fierce in my dreams, seizing my guts.”_

“Ed.”

Drip, drop. Tick tock. Time moved--forwards, backwards, round and round until rooms were spinning toward him.

“Ed.”

_“He floats me with dread.”_

“A man comes to a crossroads in his life, and he has to make a choice.” A chair beneath him, his finest suit clung to his shoulders. He was at those crossroads, demon-deals and grave-dirt in his heart. Sweat beading; the small of his back, the edges of his forehead, the palms of his hand.

Drip, drip, dripping.

_“Soaked in soul, he swims in my eyes by the bed.”_

“Does he choose safety and cowardice? Or does he opt for courage and risk everything?” Choices were difficult, but he had an idea which choice this one was. When and where, though, seemed to escape him: A bird in a locked room, flitting from object to object with no means of getting away, yet still evading capture. “I choose courage.”

(“Please, don’t do this.”)

_“Pour myself over him...”_

“What I’m trying to say is-” Words, they stuck to the inside of his throat, jamming him. He tore the wrenches from the cogs and continued.

“The thing I’ve been wanting to tell you all day long is-”

(“I never loved him, not truly.”)

_“Moon spilling in…”_

“I love you.” Something sank in, (sinking further and further below the surface, water swallowing him whole, he choking, drowning, dying) pulling down like a lead weight in his stomach.

(“But I do, now.”)

(Laugh like you mean it.)

_“And I wake up…”_

“I don’t love you.” No, Ed, **please**.

_“Alone.”_

♠ ♠ ♠

Oswald awoke, something cold and shivery in his insides as his eyes opened to… _black_. He blinked and blinked, but nothing changed.

Sighing, he stretched and popped his back before curling onto his side and reaching across the sheets. He jumped slightly when his fingers met skin, jerking away before he remembered; _Edward_ , in his bed, _Ed_ , kissing him to completion.

“Morning,” Oswald whispered, running his finger up and down whatever patch of skin it was he’d found.

“Good morning,” Ed whispered back, barely there. A hand stroked through Oswald’s hair, peaceful. He sighed, happy. “Shall I go see about breakfast?”

“In a minute,” Oswald said. “Let’s just… stay.”

“Okay,” Ed breathed. They stayed there, breathing each other’s air.

“Any dreams?” Ed asked. There was a tremor in his voice, but Oswald just chalked it up to disusage.

“I think so,” Oswald replied. “But I can only remember a little, and what I do remember doesn’t make much sense.”

“That’s good,” Ed whispered.

“How so?”

“Uh.. that’s how dreams normally work, right? You dream it, you wake up, then forget most of it until it all slips away.”

“I suppose you’re right.” That was how dreams tended to go. Somehow, he’d forgotten.

♠ ♠ ♠

“Do you want jam on your toast?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Oswald replied, taking a bite of his buttered bread. “I was thinking…”

“Yes?”

“How long has it been? Since I visited mother?” Oswald asked, taking another bite of toast before setting it down on his plate.

“Um, awhile I should think,” Ed replied. “But don’t worry, I visited her while you were in hospital.”

Oswald smiled, grateful. “Did you remember the lilies?”

“Of course I remembered the lilies,” Ed replied like Oswald was silly to suggest otherwise.

“Thank you,” Oswald said, smiling and turning his head to the right so Ed could catch it.

“You’re very welcome,” Edward assured him. He seemed so warm this morning, like sand held under the midday sun. “We could visit her. If you want. We do have some extra time on our hands, after all.”

“I like the sound of that,” Oswald replied. “When shall we go?”

“I think I could manage to have everything arranged by tomorrow if you don’t think it’s too soon?”

“Not at all,” Oswald crowed. “Tomorrow it is.”

“Indeed.”

♠ ♠ ♠

Oswald was _bored_. It turned out, being at home all day without one’s eyesight could be just as bad as being at the office all day without one’s eyesight. There really was no winning.

Oswald sighed, getting up from his chair and walking to the door, arms outstretched in search of the door frame.

“Edward?” he called out. No reply. “Ed?” No reply.

Huffing to himself, Oswald ventured out of his temporary home-office, making his way down the hall to the main dining room. He reached out, finding the edge of the table, drumming his fingers against it as he walked around it in the direction of the library.

“Ow! What the-” Oswald gasped, clutching his middle where the edge of something sharp had narrowly missed his bullet wound.

“Oswald?” Came a concerned voice, hurried footstep making their way towards him.

“Ed, thank god,” Oswald sighed. “I was going out of my mind with boredom.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I ran into this thing, whatever it is,” Oswald explained, waving his hand in the direction of his assailant.

“Your painting?” Ed questioned.

“I have a painting?”

“Mhhmm,” Ed hummed. “I wonder what it’s doing in here. I suppose Olga must have moved it to clean the library.”

“I don’t remember a painting,” Oswald admitted. “What’s the painting of?”

“You, initially. To go along with the others in the Van Dahl collection,” Ed explained. “But you decided to add me into the background at the last minute. As a surprise.”

“Into the background?” Oswald repeated with a frown. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“No?”

“Of course not. You should be up front, by my side. Right where you belong,” Oswald declared. How ridiculous his past-self must have been to think otherwise. Edward was his _partner_ for goodness sake “Wouldn’t you agr-”

All at once, something warm and real collided against him, soft lips crushing against his own, the weight of it so strong it sent Oswald stumbling backward until his back eventually hit a wall.

“What was that for?” Oswald asked, breathless. They were both panting, Oswald’s heart racing.

“Amnesia suits you,” Ed explained cryptically before pulling him back into the kiss. Oswald wasn’t sure if he should've been offended or not, but he returned the kiss anyway, mouth opening wide to welcome Ed’s tongue. Ed moaned, hand slipping between the wall and the small of Oswald’s back to pull him even closer, bodies pressed together, firm.

“M-maybe we should-” Oswald gasped breaking away, “-take this somewhere else.”

“Okay, let’s-” Edward grabbed his necktie, pulling him a couple steps away from the wall before he stopped in his tracks.

“What’s wrong?” Oswald asked, reaching out to grasp the taller man’s shoulders, running his fingers against the fabric. _Heavenly._

“Uh… we have company,” Ed replied.

“What?” Oswald quietened his breaths, straining his ears in search of the sound of an unknown intruder. “Who is it?” he whispered.

“It’s Jim,” Ed whispered back.

“Oh,” Oswald sighed in relief. He turned, smirking. Het set his shoulders and straightened his spine, keeping his eyes stationery. Slowly, he made his way to his chair, situated at the head of the table and throne-like, running one finger along the table as a guide he hoped Jim mistook as a casual display of possession. He finally sat back in his chair, keeping his stance dominant and strong, an invisible crown on his head to bear. 

There was a reason Oswald Cobblepot was King.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Jim?”

“Uh…” The sound came from the far left corner of the room, and Oswald tracked it with his head, tried to keep his eyes centred. Quiet footsteps sounded through the still room as Ed joined him and stood by his side.

Oswald smirked. “You seem quite tongue-tied there, Jim.” _Dear Jimbo. Put off by my lover, are you? Well, we’ll see about that._

Oswald snapped his arm out, grabbing whatever part of Ed’s body he could find, luckily his shoulder, and using it to pull Edward down and onto his lap, weight resting on his good leg. Ed gave an undignified squawk, but in the end, he didn’t seem to mind so much being sprawled across Oswald’s lap, looping his arms around Oswald’s shoulders to keep himself stable but otherwise staying put.

“This is not what I bargained for,” Jim muttered, his footsteps finally sounding in the room as he came forward. “I am the officer who is assigned to your case,” he announced steadily, probably trying to b ‘professional’.

“Oh, I knew you’d be back on the force soon enough. Just can’t stay away from that license to kill, now, can you Jim?” Oswald laughed.

“I… thought you already knew I’d been reinstated,” Jim replied hesitantly. Oh shit, why didn’t Oswald think of that? He probably just gave the whole game away. “It doesn’t matter though, I just need to take your statements because _someone_ …” There was a long pause that clearly indicated the Edward was the culprit. “Wouldn’t let me see you until today.”

Well, if Ed had reason to keep Jim away, Oswald had reason to as well. It was probably best to get Jim out of their hair as soon as possible, so they could go back to their _earlier_ festivities.

“You’ve heard the news, haven’t you Jim?” Oswald asked with an edge of haughtiness to his tone. “I’ve already told my people what happened to me. I’ve nothing left to say.”

“Are you sure?” Jim asked. “I know all about this stuff, and I know a lot of details are left out of the public eye. If there is any more information, I need to know.” Oswald pondered it for a minute. They had already broken rule two by letting Jim see them together, but Oswald doubted he’d go around spewing the news off to everyone. And Jim could also be an asset, he’d proved as much countless times in the past.

“What do you think?” Oswald whispered, turning his head to the side. “We could tell him we have a lead. Barbara Kean and the terrible twins. You said it yourself; she’s the most obvious candidate.”

“I-I suppose.”

“Good,” Oswald nodded before turning back to the officer-in-the-room. “Jim, although I cannot be entirely sure exactly who killed me, I know for a fact that Barbara Kean had something to do with it. She is the one who has profited the most greatly from my would-be demise, calling herself ‘Queen’ and whatnot. If you choose to investigate anyone, it should be her.”

“You understand that it may take some time to get a warrant,” Jim told him. “The Siren’s club is a respectable place.”

“What does that matter,” Oswald rolled his eyes, flicking his wrist. “Just see that it’s done.”

“Okay,” Jim replied, slow and hesitant. “If you wish, we can station an officer outside your door. For the sake of Gotham’s Mayor and all.”

“That won’t be necessary, I have my own team in place,” Oswald told him. He stroked his hand down Ed’s arm before reaching to squeeze his ass, hoping Jim would _squirm_. “Have a _pleasant_ day, detective.”

“R-right,” Jim replied faintly. “A pleasant day… right.” Footsteps moved out of the room, fading away.

All at once, he and Ed burst out laughing, their cackles filling the room and echoing off the walls.

“God, I wish I could’ve seen his face,” Oswald chortled.

“Gobsmacked! Absolutely gobsmacked!” Ed replied between giggles. Ed’s head reared back with them, tipping himself off Oswald’s lap slightly, and Oswald hastened to wrap his left arm around his waist, pulling him closer as they both burst out laughing again. Oswald’s chest ached with it, his lungs burning as he tried not dissolve into a full-on coughing-fit.

“We have to stop, or I’m going to die!” Oswald gasped, his chest still stuttering with repressed laughter.

“Don’t worry, I know CPR,” Ed told him, giggling still as he rested his head on Oswald’s shoulder. His heavy breaths breezed over the skin of Oswald’s neck and it tickled.

“Good, I need it,” Oswald coughed.

“Ugh, you coughed on me,” Ed groaned, leaning back and almost falling if it wasn’t for Oswald’s firm hands still clutching him. “So gross.”

“You’re gross,” Oswald retorted, uncaring for his childish tone.

“You suck,” Ed countered.

“No, you suck.”

“Your hand’s still on my ass.” Oswald blushed.

“I know.” It only took a moment for Ed’s lips to find his again, and Oswald welcomed them open-mouthed and whining.

It seemed someone had hit the un-pause button, and all the rose-tinged, fiery heat returned with a rush of blood and a cacophony of heart-thumps.

Oswald pulled Ed closer, Ed’s right leg pressed between his own, his back pressed to Oswald's chest whilst Oswald's right hand moved from ass to thigh. The angle was a little more strained this way, and Ed's glasses kept knocking into him, but Oswald didn't mind so much, choosing instead to trail a line of kisses down Ed's throat. He gently nipped Ed's skin and laved his tongue over his pulse point. Ed swore softly beneath his breath, hips stuttering, head lolling back, and Oswald smirked as he felt his hand brush the length of Ed's hardness.

“I-I like it when you kiss me there.” Ed whispered it like a tombstone secret.

“I like it when you do a lot of things,” Oswald rumbled back. Sucking on the skin just below Ed's jaw, Oswald's hand crept purposefully upward, fingers _just_ brushing Ed through his trousers.

“You-you don’t have to-” Ed stuttered out, seemingly torn between protest and pushing up closer for more.

“Of course I don't _have_ to,” Oswald answered, rolling his eyes before scraping his teeth against Ed's jaw and hearing him hiss. “I _want_ to. There's a difference.”

“Oh, b-but-” Ed tried, voice breathy and heady as Oswald continued to map out Ed's throat with lips, teeth and tongue. He came upon a delectable dip just above Ed's collarbones, swirling his tongue inside before worrying the skin with his teeth. “O-okay,” Ed conceded. Oswald had forgotten he'd been speaking, to begin with. “This is… _Yes_.”

Oswald smirked, grazing his teeth against Ed's skin. Suddenly, he latched on, biting down hard and tugging on the skin, pressing his fingertips firmer over Ed's clothed cock. Ed cried out, hips heaving forward as he trailed off in a moan.

“O-oh, y-you’re...” Ed muttered softly as Oswald's hand slowly travelled upward, undoing Ed's trouser button and tugging down his zipper. The trousers stayed in place due to Ed's suspenders, but Oswald didn't mind, chuckling as he snapped one of the bands and heard Ed yelp.

Scraping his nails down Ed's clothed chest, Oswald delved inside the confines of Ed's trousers, holding his breath as he stroked Ed through his boxer-briefs. Ed's hips bucked forward and he moaned, low and delicious.

“Y-you’re actually-” Ed murmured.

“Shhh.” Oswald bit hard into Ed's neck, squeezing his hand at the same time, and he marvelled at the noise Ed made, like he was falling off the edge, and it was all the sound that Oswald wanted to hear.

Oswald braved the waters, memories of a shaking, gasping, _wrecked_ Edward from the night before spurring him on as he delicately pulled back the fabric of Ed's underwear, pouring his hand inside and taking Ed loosely in his grasp.

“O-Oswald,” Ed gasped, head rolling back further, corpse-like. 

It occurred to Oswald just how surreal the situation was. As far as he knew, he and Ed had done this plenty of times, but it didn't feel like that at all. It felt like starting over, like Oswald had made the jump from falling in helpless, pining love to a fully-fledged relationship in a matter of days.

Most surreal of all was that Ed wanted _him_ , that it was Oswald's name he moaned beneath his breath, and Oswald's hand making his hips jerk and breaths quicken.

Oswald bit his lip, finding that with every rock of Ed's hips into his fist, he pressed back against Oswald’s matching bulge, making his own breathing stutter and his heart pound in his chest. Everything seemed to accelerate; Oswald’s hand moving with purpose now, stroking hard down the shaft to circle the tip with his thumb.

The weight on his shoulder was abruptly gone as Ed raised his head, then drew in a sharp breath. Oswald’s muscles all tensed at once, leg twingeing, as he prepared for Ed’s seemingly inevitable call of halt. _No, this is enough now, Oswald. You don’t have to, Oswald I don’t need you to, Oswald, **stop, Oswald**._

But it seemed stopping was the last thing on Ed’s mind as he bore some of his weight on his arms, raising his upper body. 

He was looking, Oswald realized. Ed was watching as Oswald's hand moved over him. And, judging from the pounding of his heart where he pressed against Oswald’s chest, he liked what he saw.

_Ed is watching, Ed is watching._

It hit him hard, another bullet that made its mark, Oswald’s breath catching and heart hammering for _more, more, more_. He moved his other hand from around Ed's waist to his shirtfront, started unfastening buttons as quickly as possible, nearly tearing them off in his haste to touch more skin _now, now, now_. He spread the shirt open, and slid his hand across Ed's bare skin, wanting to feel his fast beating heart more closely, with nothing in between them.

As his hand skimmed upwards, Ed gasped and his head fell back once more as he moaned under his breath. “Oswald," he breathed. "Oswald, do that again.”

Oswald was in no position to say no (not that he’d ever want to). Keeping up the rhythm of his right hand, he pressed his left back over Ed’s chest, smirking when Ed gasped again as his thumb grazed over his nipple. He returned to rub it more firmly, the skin hardening quickly. Ed was moaning steadily now, his body becoming increasingly tense in Oswald’s arms.

Switching to the other nipple, Oswald circled his finger around it, teasing, gradually getting closer as Ed stretched out on top of him, muscles flexing. He let his finger stray, stroking over the nipple delicately, then moved back to the first one and pinched it. Ed’s back arched, and he flung his right arm up over his head, fisting Oswald’s hair and pulling it hard.

“Ow,” Oswald complained, wrinkling his nose.

“S-sorry,” Ed murmured, words barely strung together.

Clearly, Oswald was on a roll. It became more difficult to focus, however, as fingers brushed through his hair, tugging more gently this time, short nails scratching lightly across his scalp, something of a desperation in the hold which sent electricity down Oswald's spine.

His hands never ceasing their movements, Oswald lowered his lips to Ed's neck once more. It seemed that any and all pretence of gentleness had escaped. That was okay, Oswald was hardly the gentle kind. 

No, sitting there with Ed at his mercy, Oswald didn't feel gentle, or delicate, or _sweet_. He felt possessive.

He ran his open mouth from just below Ed's ear to the base of his neck, then bit down; harder than before, not enough to break the skin, but enough to make Edward _feel_ it, enough to leave a mark as he sucked at the flesh his lips surrounded, rubbing the flat of his tongue over it and humming in pleasure, both at the sensation and at the feeling of complete _ownership_ it gave him.

Ed's hand pulled hard and painful in his hair, but Oswald didn't complain this time, drinking in Ed's gasping cry, his body jerking in Oswald's arms, tense and shaking as his orgasm swept through him, pulsing against Oswald's fingers and gasping for breath.

There was a shocking violence to it. Oswald bore the sole witness to Ed’s destruction, the still-thumping heart and crystalline sighs signalling the aftermath of devastation as Ed came down from his high. Was that really what it felt like, from the outside eye? Like the person he loved was falling apart under his hands, and it was now Oswald’s job to piece him back together again. God, all of this felt so _new_ to him. All his muscles were learning new ways to move and twist, suddenly living for another being’s pleasure for some amount of time.

Had they really done this before?

Ed suddenly seemed to stir in his arms, whispering Oswald’s name beneath his breath as his head shifted and buried itself in the curve where Oswald’s neck met his shoulder.

“Was that…” Oswald began tentatively, trailing off when he found he wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Was that… _different?_ ”

“Of course it was different,” Ed sighed, shifting minutely to make himself more comfortable it seemed. “I’ve never act-” Ed’s speech halted midway through, and Oswald was about to ask him why when he continued. “I’ve never had sex in a chair before. But, I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”

“Yes,” Oswald hummed. Ed stirred in his arms again--he seemed to be regaining his senses, breaths evened-out and steady.

“Oh,” Ed murmured, suddenly aware of their positions it seemed as he accidentally rocked back against Oswald. Oswald, for his part, bit his lip and tried very hard not whine, still desperate and aching for Ed’s touch. It seemed that, while Ed had returned to the land of the living, Oswald was still very much stuck in a fuck-fantasy where lustful creatures shaded the pale blue moonlight, hot steam pouring from his fingertips even as water dripped and rolled cool lines down his kin.

“Do you want me to…” Ed trailed off, his hand coming to rub slowly up the in-seam of Oswald’s other leg, stretching higher and higher.

Oswald thought back to all of Ed’s teasing the night before, how he’d denied him until the very end. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he simpered mockingly, fluttering his eyelashes.

“Alright, then,” and suddenly Ed’s weight was gone and Oswald was left with a fully-fledged erection and a gasp on his breath.

“No, wait, Ed!” He yelped, trying his best to jump to his feet and mentally cursing his stiff limbs.

“I just want to respect your boundaries, Oswald, dear,” Ed sang back to him. A door opened and closed, and Oswald couldn't help but be disappointed. 

Damn, Oswald should’ve known better than to make a joke at Ed’s expense, to take his own bitterness out on him. He just _wished_ things were different, wished he could see Ed, see the face he had made as he climaxed, wished he could remember all that they’d been through, remember the secret to unlocking Ed’s heart, wished Ed wasn’t so worried about taking advantage of him and would just _pounce_ , press Oswald against the wall again and have his way with him.

If only he could remember.

Oswald sighed, falling back into his chair again. His erection was still ablaze, desperate for relief, but without Ed there in the room with him, Oswald didn’t care much for the idea of doing anything about. It was moments like these that they invented the cold shower for, right?

Without preamble, Oswald heaved himself up and set about his new task of figuring out how to turn the shower on by himself.

♠ ♠ ♠

Shower finished, hair dry, bandage self-reapplied and clothes on once again, Oswald had resigned himself to another bout of eternal boredom when a loud crash and yell sounded close by. Fear and concern stirring through Oswald’s heart, he sent himself into as much of a run as he could manage with his leg still slightly strained from his earlier antics.

Hand slipping along the wall as a guide, Oswald reached the room he thought he’d heard the sound from. This was further confirmed when he heard the voices emerging, muffled by the wooden door. Or one voice, rather; Edward’s. Half concerned, half curious, Oswald moved closer, pressing his ear to the door. Yep, that was definitely Ed’s voice, muffled as it was. Oswald’s ear strained as he tried to make out clearly what Ed was saying.

“-I just enjoy… Lasts.” Oswald managed to make out. Ed seemed frustrated, and Oswald couldn’t help but hope that he’d let that build up enough for Oswald to hear him through the door.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Ed shouted. There, that was what Oswald had been looking for. Who Ed was talking to was a complete mystery, however. Perhaps he was on the phone? Surely, if someone was in there with him, Oswald would be able to hear them.

“Well… -posed to… about it?” Ed blustered, quieter this time and harder to hear. “I can’t tell him!” _Him?_ “You know perfectly well, why.” _Tell him what?_ “...don’t understand!”

_What the hell is going on?_

“I KNOW THAT!” Oswald reared his head back, hissing quietly at the volume. “Yes. I do. You are me and I am you, you tell me every time.” Okaayyyyy… This was all getting harder and harder to make sense of.

“Strange?” Yep, exactly that; strange. “He probably doesn’t… same number.”

Ed was quiet again. Oswald pressed closer to the door, plastering himself against the wood, impatient.

Eventually, Ed spoke again: “Nobody’s picking up. This is a waste of time.”

 _What?_ Did that mean Ed wasn’t on the phone after all? But then how could he have a conversation if there was no one in the room with him?

_Wait._

Oh, God, _no_.

Oswald had read Edward’s Arkham file, had spoken to him at length during their little stint as roommates in Ed’s two-room apartment. Oswald knew that Ed tended to hallucinate when under an extreme amount of stress. Although Oswald hadn’t fully understood, he definitely believed Edward and had been concerned at one time or another about a possible relapse. Was that what was happening here? Was Ed hallucinating again… because of Oswald? Had Oswald pushed him so far, created an environment so stressful that Ed’s mind had resorted to hallucinations in order to right itself?

No, that couldn’t be… but all the facts seemed to point that way. [The way Ed seemed to simultaneously want to be around him and be as far away from him impossible, his flinching, the way he kept trying to apologize. Like Oswald had pushed him too far. 

God, if Oswald had just not pushed for intimacy, if he’d just let Ed be, none of this would have happened.

“Hello, this is Edward Nygma. You might remember me.” Oswald didn’t need to hear any more.

Hands shaking, heart aching and knees quaking, he hobbled as fast down the hall as he could manage, trying to distance himself as far away as possible from the awful truth of what he’d done.

♠ ♠ ♠

“Here, let me help you.” Oswald relinquished his fork without question, telling himself it was because his wrist was saw (it was, rather) and not because he couldn’t bear to say no to Ed and push him even further away. Ed fed him a couple more bites of the tender steak before pressing the utensil back into his hand and doing instead guiding Oswald through the motions of eating.

It seemed rather patronizing still, but at least Ed was making an effort.

“You’re not still mad at me, are you?” Ed asked eventually in a small, guarded voice.

“I wasn’t mad at you, to begin with, Ed,” Oswald assured him, pressing his lips together to contain whatever desperate outpour threatened to spill out. “I’m just… frustrated,” he reasoned. “Whatever luxury that comes with temporary blindness has well and truly passed, and I’m very much over it. I’m truly sorry if I’ve taken any of it out on you at all.”

“Oh,” Ed murmured. “I thought you’d be mad about the, uh, chair thing.”

“Don’t worry about that, Edward,” Oswald told him. “That’s not your fault. It’s just… You don’t know how hard it is. I miss a lot of things, but most of all, I miss being able to see you. Even in my dreams, you’re all fuzzy and unrealistic. It’s not at all sufficient. I miss being able to see you smile.”

“I… imagine I’d miss your smile if I knew I’d never see it again,” Ed told him softly. “I’d probably do anything in my power just to get you back.” Ed’s shoulder tensed where it barely rested against his own, but Oswald paid it no mind, only happy to hear Ed speaking, seeming maybe happier again. Perhaps if Oswald kept explaining it, Ed would stop taking things out on himself and realize that he was never to blame from the beginning.

“That’s the problem, you see, there isn’t any way for me to get my sight back other than to hope and pray. And, although I pride myself on my patience, I find that without any signs of progress, I get more and more restless,” Oswald said. “That’s why I’ve been so… impatient lately. I hope you can understand.”

“You’ve recovered some of your memories,” Ed reminded him. “Good memories too. Don’t those count as progress?”

“Yes, you’re right, they do,” Oswald agreed. “It’s just... difficult to tell the difference between what’s real and what’s not.”

“Everything you’ve told me has been real,” Ed told him.

“Yes, but what about everything else?”

“Everything else?” Ed echoed distantly.

“Nevermind,” Oswald rubbed his temples with his free hand. “Oh, this was supposed to be an apology and I’m absolutely wrecking it.” He took a deep breath, stilling the air around him until it turned to something more pleasant and expectant. “I’m sorry, Ed. I keep acting in a way that seems to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable, and that makes me truly sorry. Could you, please, forgive me?”

“Oswald, I’m the last person who’s forgiveness you should be looking for.”

“Nonetheless, I am asking,”Oswald insisted. “Ed, can you forgive me?”

“Of course, I forgive you, Ed breathed at last, like a balloon finally letting all the air out. “I’ll always forgive you. For everything.”

“Thank you,” Oswald smiled, and it wobbled his cheeks. He sniffed. “Well, this is all rather morose, isn’t it?”

“I was thinking,” Ed began, “perhaps, if you’d allow it, I could… spend the night in your bed again. I find waking up to you to be… comforting, in a way. Would that be okay?”

“Of course, it would!” Oswald told him, biting his lips to keep it from stretching his smile too wide. “Of course.”

♠ ♠ ♠

“No tricks tonight?” Ed questioned, almost conversationally.

“Not unless you call asking you to read aloud to me a trick,” Oswald told him, raising an eyebrow. He’d thought about it, long and hard. He knew Ed derived some joy from reading, and Oswald himself had found himself enjoying the sensation from time to time. It made the most sense, in the end, as a way to get Edward to feel like Oswald wanted to be close to him whilst still remaining within Ed’s boundaries. Oswald just hoped he’d chosen correctly.

“You want me to read to you?” Ed asked, the mattress dipping beside him.

“I miss reading, and I like the sound of your voice,” Oswald explained. “It’s a win-win situation really.”

“Right,” Ed coughed. “So, what would you like me to read?”

“Whatever you like.” Oswald shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“Well, I lent you a copy of A Study in Scarlet recently, but I don’t suppose you would have gotten a chance to read it.”

“If I did, I can’t remember it anyway,” Oswald replied.

“Right,” Ed paused. “I’ll just find it then, shall I?” Oswald sat back in bed, content to wait as he listened to Ed rummaging around in search of the book.

“Aha! Here it is.”

“Before you begin, what is the book about?” Oswald asked.

“It’s the first book in the Sherlock Holmes series,” Ed explained. The bed dipped as Ed settled in on his side. “This is the one where Watson first met Holmes.”

“Well, that does sound interesting,” Oswald observed with a smile. He felt rather whimsical, sitting here in bed with Edward by his side. “We’re rather like an old married couple, aren’t we, reading to each other instead of having sex like most people.”

“Don’t worry, this book will be just as stimulating,” Ed assured him. Oswald snorted. “Now, hush so I can begin.”

Oswald grinned, stupidly fond of Ed’s endless supply of eccentricities. “I love you, Ed.”

“I love you, too, Oswald.” Oswald’s smile grew impossibly larger. “Now, _in the year 1878, I took…_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I'm sorry to have this out now so I can finish the next part of [The Sound of My Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1018875) series. I'm only three pages in, but it hopefully won't take too long and I'll be back here for another chapter.
> 
> Also; can anybody guess what Ed is up to? Comment if you think you've figured it out.
> 
> As usual, any and all comments/kudos are greatly appreciated, and I'll hopefully be back soon :)


	5. Pour Myself Over Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald wakes up from a nightmare. But, don't worry, this one wasn't real.
> 
> Believe me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aah, sorry, life got in the way. But, here's some plot, I guess? Hopefully, it's interpretable. I'm hoping this feels like it's coming together. Well done to the people who've been commenting a few theories, y'all are amazing! Everyone is amazing! Next chapter is a bit of a climax, of sorts, as we get closer to the... you know.

_Drip, drop._

Time moves like water, spilling from his spine; backwards, forwards, then backwards again.

_Tick, tock, goes the clock. Things aren’t quite as they seem._

The water flowed between his fingers, confusing. Was he foreseeing or remembering? Remembering or imagining. Could he even tell the difference?

_“He’s fierce in my dreams, seizing my guts.”_

All at once, the water swallowed his lungs. He gasped and sputtered, chest heaving rapidly, feet stumbling in the dark shadows. He was so completely lost, the darkness eating at him, chunks of his flesh floating to the surface above his head. A gruesome sight if ever there was one. Oswald stopped for a moment to hack his lungs out, watching as those rose as well.

His hands shook, his heart raced. Lost, he was so completely lost, his head seemed swamped in seaweed and choking black.

In an act of utter desperation, he snatched his hand out, finding something solid in the dark. He grabbed it without a thought, turning in place to face the window behind him. Holding the phone to his cheek, the words seemed to release without control, and Oswald let them.

_“He floats me with dread.”_

“I understand that one is expected to wait twenty-four hours before filing a missing person’s report!” He told the phone. His eyes cast about wildly, the front room of the Manor coming into focus even as the edges of his vision continued to blur. His arms moved in wild, frustrated gestures, fingers locked in fists so tight the phone could’ve broken at any moment. “But, sir, I am the _Mayor,_ an-”

“Oswald!”

_“Soaked in soul, he swims in my eyes by the bed.”_

Like heaven cometh to earth, Oswald seemed to break the surface, gasping for breath, releasing the water from his lungs. The phone left his fingers, either he dropped it and the crash was drowned out by the noise in his head, or it simply disappeared.

Oswald rushed to Ed, crowded him, pulled him into his arms just to believe he was real. Yes, it was real. So unbelievably real.

“I’m sorry,” Ed spoke. And he fucking _should_ be sorry because Oswald had _never_ felt panic like that before in his _life_ , but he also felt like he could forgive Ed _anything_ at this point.

He kept hugging him tight.

_“Pour myself over him.”_

“When you didn’t come home, I assumed the worst,” he told him, felt it burn out desperation like a cigarette burns out smoke.

His hands clutched Ed’s biceps, claws digging in, and he’d probably done this too many times now, he was showing his hand now, but who even _cared_ when Ed could have been shot in the head (shot in the stomach) and left to drown in the river (drown in the river).

(Drowning, drowning in the river.)

(He can’t breathe again.)

“Are you okay?”

“I’m better than okay,” Ed assured him, breathless, eyes alight. Something sparked inside Oswald’s gut. It felt like hope and daring, and for a moment, he considered leaning in, a blissful smile growing on his face. “I met someone.”

Oswald’s smile fell.

“I think I’m in love.”

_No._

_“Moon spilling in.”_

Ed’s expression flickered; adoration to hate, then back again. Oswald had to sit down, fall back into a chair without paying it any mind.

“What’s her name?”

“Isabella.”

_No._

“T-tell me more.” And Ed did, the words crawling like ants beneath Oswald’s skin, tiny fish chomping down on his bones until he was nothing. Oswald turned his gaze away, settling on another man coming through the doorway: Gabe.

_“And I wake up…”_

Sometimes, you have to fight for what is yours.

“Is it done?”

“It’s done.”

_“Alone.”_

♠ ♠ ♠

Oswald gasped awake, his limbs stiff, mouth open on a silent scream. His body moved independently, pushing and kicking away the covers, fingers scrabbling everywhere, nails digging lines into his arms. He was yelling properly now, that watery sinking feeling leaching out of him with every audible note. His eyes moved in the black, desperately searching for the light. It wasn’t there.

“Oswald, Oswald it’s okay! Please, calm down, please!” Ed. Ed was there. Of course, he was, they shared a bed now, that's what they did, because they were together and because they were normal and because _everything was fine_.

“Everything’s fine,” Oswald told him, still gasping. “J-just a nightmare.” A freakish, heart-stoppingly real nightmare.

“Are you sure?” Ed asked.

“Yes,” Oswald gasped, adding a couple nods for good measure. “It just happened to b-be very vivid, a-and-”Oswald's eyes swivelled again, still trying to find the light. Again; nothing.

“Oswald?” Ed continued, that concern still in his voice, and Oswald pushed it away desperately.

“I’m fine. I assure you.” They sat in silence, Oswald regaining his breath and wishing he could just have normal dreams for once.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Ed asked, voice strained like Oswald’s spine and aching leg.

“No,” he answered shortly. A hand touched his knee. It was achingly cold and Oswald had to resist the urge to push it away. “R-really. In fact, I think I’d rather just get up for the day.”

“Okay,” Ed agreed, the sheets rustling. “But first-” Oswald turned his face to him, waiting. “Will you do something for me?”

“Anything,” Oswald gasped, and it was true.

“Could you breathe?” Oswald wanted to laugh at him, or cry and sob, but as Ed began to count aloud (“Inhale, one, two, three, four.”) Oswald found himself complying, chest moving steadily, breaths gradually slowing. A gentle peace wrapped its arms around him, and Oswald felt his head begin to clear. Eyes falling closed, his thoughts seemed to settle, until Oswald found himself going over the dream again, realistically.

It had been, essentially, just another ridiculous dream that his brain had come up with after yet another tiring day. Ed was _Oswald’s_ partner. There had been no mention of this _Isabelle_ woman, or whomever she was. Oswald had nothing to worry about. Ed loved him, had said as much countless times before. In fact, when put into context, none of the events in his dream had made any sense at all. All of that black water choking him, and the feeling of time slipping away… completely ridiculous.

“Oswald.”

“Yeah?” Oswald turned his head towards Ed once more.

“You were humming,” Ed told him, almost dejectedly.

“I was?” Oswald asked. Silence. “That bad, hmm?”

“N-no, it’s just-” Ed coughed. “I didn’t think you… would know that song, is all.”

“What song was it, again?” Oswald asked.

“Nevermind that.” Ed’s hands clapped loudly, refocusing the attention in the room. “Time to get up. We have quite the day ahead.”

“Do we?” Oswald questioned, trying to keep up with Ed’s change of pace.

“Of course!” Ed crowed loudly. “We’re visiting your mother’s grave today. I’ve organised it so we should get there well before noon, and we can stay as long as you like.”

“We?” Oswald repeated, a smile curling his lips. “So, you’re coming with me?”

“W-well, I just thought - I can stay here if you’d prefer?”

“God, no,” Oswald spluttered. “Besides, Mother should meet you. I know she’d love you.”

“She’d be the first mother to do so if she did,” Ed muttered. “Thank you, Oswald. I’d love to accompany you.”

Oswald smiled, chewing the inside of his lip. Then, because doubt still lingered with cold fingers and shaky sobs, he said; “I love you, Ed.”

“I love you too, Oswald.” And that was all he needed to know.

♠ ♠ ♠

They eat breakfast in relative silence, Oswald paying too much attention to eating and reminding himself that his dream was _just a dream_ to focus on making proper conversation. Ed didn't seem to mind, choosing to read the morning newspaper aloud so Oswald could hear, but otherwise not talking either.

According to the paper, the announcement of Oswald's attack and subsequent return to office had taken Gotham by storm, many demanding justice for their favourite mayor, whilst others redeclared their allegiance to him. It seemed that his little speech had made the precise impact he'd been looking for. It was always a good day when the people of Gotham loved you.

He wondered what Miss Kean and Tweedledum and Tweedledee had to say about the news. Surely, they were both biding their time, waiting to strike as soon as the opportunity arose. God knew what they'd do to Ed if they found out how much he knew. Oswald hoped that whatever Jim did, he didn't end up spewing his guts and letting them know too much. But Oswald had a feeling it would take more than one goody-two-shoes police officer to fix this mess.

“Are you finished?” Ed asked, gently disrupting his thoughts.

“Why, yes, I believe I am,” Oswald said, pushing his plate back from him.

“Good,” Ed chirped. “Shall I help you pick your outfit before we go?”

“Yes, that would be much appreciated,” Oswald told him with a smile. Ed's hand appeared on his shoulder, and he stood, letting Ed guide him away.

♠ ♠ ♠

Ed changed his band-aid first, that dreaded, melancholic silence on his breath rearing its head again, but the moment soon passed. Oswald found himself standing in what he presumed to be the middle of the room with Ed’s footsteps dancing around him like a honeybee. Which is to say; it was quite sweet.

“I hope I’m meeting your standards, here,” Ed murmured as he fastened what seemed to be Oswald waistcoat, the one with the looped stitching if he wasn’t mistaken.

“As long as it’s warm,” Oswald assured him. “I trust you.”

“Right,” Ed muttered, straightening the fabric with a tug.

“No, really-” Oswald captured Ed’s hand in his own. “I mean it.”

“Thank you,” Ed answered eventually, wobbly and brittle. Oswald wondered how any man could think so lowly of themselves, especially when that man was Edward Nygma. “Do the clothes fit right?” Ed asked. “Should I grab the jacket now?”

“Yes and yes,” Oswald answered smilingly, trying to add some extra reassurance.

Ed helped him into the suit jacket, smoothing down the shoulders with quick brush strokes of his hand. “Splendid,” he dubbed it. “I think you’re ready.”

“I happily agree,” Oswald returned with a smile.

Later, in the car, Oswald pressed his cheek to Ed’s shoulder with a sigh, blinking his eyes in the darkness.

“Is something wrong?” Ed asked, a hand smoothing through Oswald’s hair to either fix it or mess it beyond repair.

“Not really,” Oswald said. “My head hurts a bit though.”

“Do you need some water?” Ed asked.

“No, I’ll be fine,” Oswald replied, shifting his head to push his face deeper into the meat of Ed’s shoulder.

“I thought that you might be upset about going to see your mother’s grave,” Ed explained. “Specifically the _not_ seeing it part.”

“No, I don’t mind that so much,” Oswald mumbled, slightly muffled from where his face was pressed against Ed’s sleeve. “It’s definitely not at the top of the list regarding my grievances with the lack of vision.” That spot was reserved for Ed, and Ed alone. “Besides, there’s not much to see. It’s just the feeling I get when I stand there. Sometimes, it’s like she’s actually there with me.”

“That’s nice,” Ed stated. “But, I’m sorry about your sight.”

“Don’t be,” Oswald told him. “It’s not your fault.”

Ed shifted in his seat but didn’t say anything.

They still had a ways to go, Oswald knew, the cemetery being in another of Gotham’s outer suburbs, on the other side of the city. Oswald let his mind wander to more dreary things; namely, his dream.

Oswald shivered slightly, replaying what little he could remember in his mind. The water climbing up to swallow him. That feeling of time shifting in and out of place. That song, the lyrics barely legible in his mind. Ed’s voice.

_(I think I’m in love.)_

Like a gunshot that pierced Oswald’s stomach.

_(I think I’m in love.)_

What was the source of such a twisted story? Had some deep-seated insecurity bubbled to the surface? Taking the form of the man who loved him, loving another? Perhaps some part of Oswald still thought that Ed could do better. That one day, another woman would come along and catch his eye, and he wouldn’t be his anymore. Maybe, Oswald still couldn’t believe that any of this was real. Why should he? What had Oswald done to deserve such-

“Oswald,” Ed spoke, breaking Oswald out of his thoughts momentarily. Oswald scrambled at them but found them already wasting away into nothingness.

“Yes, Edward?” he sighed.

“How do you know that song?” Ed was very, very still.

“What song?” Oswald asked, confused.

“You were humming again,” Ed replied, still not moving, his chest barely shifting as he breathed.

“Was I?” Oswald questioned. “I didn’t realize.”

The car slowed to a stop.

“We’re here,” the driver called through the partition.

“Yes, thank you, Jeffrey,” Oswald replied automatically.

“Uh, actually, it’s _Charles_ , sir,” the driver corrected.

“Oh, yes, that’s right,” Oswald nodded. “Why is that again?”

“Dunno,” Charles replied. Right. Very helpful.

“Come now, Ed, let’s get going.”

Ed preceded to help him out of the car, grabbing the bouquet of lilies from the front seat, the two of them walking together, arm in arm, as Ed guided him to his mother’s grave.

“Here,” he gently guided the lilies into his hands. “Should I give you a minute?”

“Please, do,” Oswald replied gratefully. He waited a moment for Ed to leave, sniffing the flower bouquet delicately before bending down to place it gently on the ground. He planted his hands on the dewy grass to lower himself as well, wrinkling his nose at the wet feeling, but tolerating it anyway.

“Hello, mother,” Oswald began, smiling in the approximate direction of her headstone. “I'm alive.” He let out a breathy attempt at a chuckle, hoping it would pass.

The wind blew gently through the cemetery, whistling softly in his ears. Oswald didn't feel it.

“I'm sorry it's taken me so long to visit, Mother. Things have been rather hectic lately.” Oswald grazed his hand over the tips of grass beside him, selecting one at random to pluck from the ground. “You were right, though,” Oswald smiled again. “There really was someone out there for me. And I found him.” Oswald sighed, wistful. “He's everything you would have wanted for me… intelligent, kind, absolutely gorgeous.” Oswald chuckled again. “At least, as far as I can recall.”

Oswald pulled the blade of grass between his fingers until it snapped.

“You see, I'm blind, mother. They say it could only be temporary, but I'm afraid…” Oswald shook his head. “I'm afraid.”

Oswald's hands were shaking.

“Oh, _mother_.” 

_(I think I'm in love)_

“I have a horrid feeling that something _terrible-_ ” the grass behind him rustled, “-is going on.” The grass rustled again. “Edward?”

“Ah, yes, I was just, uh, wondering… how much longer you may need.”

Oswald turned his head back to where the headstone should be. “I… think I'm finished.”

“She would be proud of you, I think.”

“Thank you,” Oswald smiled. “Would you help me up?”

“Certainly.”

Oswald held onto Ed’s hand even after he was upright, leaning in to press a kiss to Ed's face, thankfully getting his cheek in the process. Ed’s breath stuttered, but he said nothing else.

The ride back was quiet and uneventful, Oswald leaning against Ed comfortably. When they were back at the Manor, however, it was a different story.

“Ma’am, we are simply visiting the _victim_ of this investigation. No one under this roof is being questioned, nor even _suspected_ of any wrongdoing.”

Oswald felt Ed’s arm tense up, and couldn’t very well blame him as he easily recognised the voice belonging to none of than Jim Gordon.

“Politseyskiye - musor!” Olga’s voice spat. “Kak ty smeyesh'-”

“Don’t worry, my dear,” Oswald called loudly as Ed helped him through the door. “We’re home now, we’ll deal with this.”

“Da,” Olga agreed, her footsteps thundering out of the room.

“Thanks,” Jim mumbled. Oswald smiled.

“Lovely to see you again, Jim,” Oswald greeted sticking his hand out to where Jim’s voice had come from. Huh. Irony.

“Likewise,” Jim huffed, shaking his hand quickly. “Now, uh, to get to the matter at hand, we are here to offer a report following a recent interview with Miss Barbara Kean.”

“Oh?” Oswald questioned. “She agreed to an interview, then?”

“I’m as surprised as you are,” Jim admitted, fabric rustling. “Either way, I came to tell you that she has an alibi.”

“Oh?” Oswald raised an eyebrow, not particularly surprised by this information. 

Barbara had always been rather crafty, and, at least as far as Oswald could remember, he had taken quite a few measures to keep her in line. He wondered what had happened that his past-self had slipped up so badly.

“She, Miss Galavan and Mr Gilzean were busy keeping guard of the premises during the city-wide riot as caused by one Jerome Valeska,” Jim reported.

“Jerome? I thought that maniac died when that wretch Galavan stabbed him in the throat,” Oswald said.

“Yes well, as I’m sure you can attest to, death doesn’t appear as permanent as it once was in the city of Gotham,” Jim sighed. “Either way, they are all each other’s alibi, and there is nothing to either confirm or deny that they were at the Siren’s Club _or_ the docks that morning.”

“How disappointing,” Oswald conceded, lips twisting. Still, he refused to let it end there. “How’s the search warrant coming along?”

“Uh, I’m not sure I can-” Jim began.

“Fuckin’ awful,” a gruff voice piped up. “Fuckin’ slow judicial system in this messed up city.”

“Detective Bullock?” Oswald questioned, raising his eyebrows at the man’s answering grunt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t… see you there.”

“‘Course, you didn’t, staring freak,” Harvey muttered under his breath, still loud enough to be picked up by Oswald’s increasingly sharp hearing.

“I was staring?” Oswald asked, his mouth twitching up as he felt Ed’s skinny arm looped through his. “I apologize, I… it has been a trying morning, visiting my mother’s grave, you must understand.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jim coughed.

“Is there anything else?” Oswald asked, all too ready to end the detectives’ visit.

“Uh, n-nothing I think I can say,” Jim replied cryptically.

“Well, I got somethin’ to say,” Harvey announced. “How do we know that it wasn’t _you_ who created this little story, huh? Shooting yourself in the stomach, your own pity party.”

“And why would I do that?” Oswald asked, raising his eyebrow amusedly.

“To gain back the people,” Harvey answered. “Their loyalty means everythin’ in this city, an’ you lost it.”

“Well, that sounds like a rather terrible plan, and not at all like me,” Oswald answered honestly. “How long was I in hospital, detective Bullock? Weeks, I think it was. And not one gift came my way, no bouquet of flowers, no friendly visits apart from my dear Edward.” Ed’s hand squeezed his arm and he smiled. “I don’t need to rely on cheap tricks to gain the people’s favour. I’m the king of Gotham. Such things are below me.”

“Sure,” Harvey huffed, but he didn’t seem to have a follow-up.

“Now, is that all?” Oswald asked, aiming it back at Jim this time.

“I think so.”

“Okay,” Oswald nodded, pasting a warm smile on his face. “Goodbye then, detective.”

“Bye, ya’ freak,” Harvey grunted, his heavy footsteps plodding to the door. “Ya’ comin’, partner?”

“Just a second,” Jim told him. Suddenly, Oswald felt a hand in his own, moving up into a semblance of a shake. Something scratched against his palm lightly, causing his brows to furrow as he considered what it was. “If anything else comes up, don’t hesitate to call.”

“Right,” Oswald replied blankly, not sure what the detective was getting at or what it was he’d left in his hand as he pulled away.

Jim cleared his throat before his footsteps shuffled out of the room and down the hall.

“Jim really is an ignoramus,” Ed commented, something funny and dark with his voice.

“I suppose so,” Oswald agreed, too focused on whatever it was in his hand to bother fighting Ed on that one. He felt along the object with his fingertips. It was a piece of paper, that was for sure, but its purpose remained a mystery.

“What do you have there?” Ed asked lowly, his voice suddenly right by Oswald’s ear, making him flinch.

“I honestly don’t know,” Oswald replied, subtly leaning into Ed’s touch since it was being offered. “Here, take a look.”

“Hmm,” Ed’s fingers brushed Oswald’s palm as he took it, the paper rustling as Ed probably unfolded. “It says; Don’t trust E - _oh_.”

“What is it?” Oswald asked into the quiet.

“N-nothing,” Ed replied quickly. “Where did you get this anyway?”

“Jim gave it to me when he shook my hand,” Oswald replied easily. “What does it say? Who can’t I trust?”

“It’s just paranoid nonsense,” Ed told him, voice edged like a serrated blade. “He says ‘don’t trust anyone’. I suppose he doesn’t know who did it, s-so he wants you to be careful.”

“I suppose,” Oswald agreed, shrugging his shoulders. That made enough sense. Still… “Is everything okay, Edward?”

Ed remained silent for a few moments, until; “W-what always comes too late?”

Oswald’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know, Ed.” He shrugged. “Pizza?”

“You trust me, don’t you, Oswald?”

_(I think I’m in love)_

“Of course,” Oswald gasped. “Of course, I do. I hardly think _you_ are the one Jim was warning me-”

“Good,” Ed gritted out. Oswald’s brow furrowed further in confusion, but then a firm set of lips were pressing against his own, and he didn’t really give a shit why Ed was acting so strange anymore.

“More,” he whispered, clinging to the man desperately as they parted for a moment.

“Yes,” Ed agreed, hands in Oswald’s hair, an intoxicating push and pull that shivered his spine into the void. His heart thumped as their tongues intertwined, hands fumbling from drunk looseness, voice a high keen. His feet stumbled backwards until he felt the hard press of a wall against his back, Ed moving even closer to push their fronts together, the bottom edges of his glasses digging into Oswald’s cheeks.

“Wait, wait, _Ed_ ,” Oswald gasped out, attempting to detach the taller man from himself. “Are you sure you want this? I don’t want to-to take _advantage_ , or something.”

“I’m not the one you should be worried about, _Oswald_.”

“And yet, here I am - worried.” Oswald spread his fingers wide, indicating his general, worried state. His tongue traced the gaps of his teeth, waiting nervously for Ed’s reply.

“I just…” Ed’s voice was rushed and breathy, Oswald’s fingers twitching with concern. “Y-you know what, you’re right, I-I shouldn’t have-have even started-”

“No, Ed,” Oswald blustered, shaking his head in frustration. “That’s not what I meant, I just, ah, I want…” Oswald trailed off, shaking his head again. Fuck, this was hard.

“What do you want, Oswald?”

Oswald rolled his tongue around his mouth, deliberating. But, in the end, there was only one answer.

“You.”

Ed’s breath hitched, closer than before. “I want you too.” Oswald felt Ed’s hands brush his stomach, a shiver coursing down his spine as Ed straightened his waistcoat for him. “But, I still don’t want to take advantage.”

Oswald sighed, rolling his eyes. “Then _don’t_. Don’t take advantage.” Ed didn’t reply. “Look, you don’t have to keep worrying so much. It’s not _always_ about me.”

“Really?” Ed snorted. “ _The_ Oswald Cobblepot, claiming it’s not _all_ about him.”

“Shut up, Ed,” Oswald said, rolling his eyes as he flicked one of Ed’s long fingers. “The point _is_ …” Oswald pulled Ed’s hands away, entwining their fingers together. “Just let me do something for you for once.”

“Fine,” Ed huffed. The brat.

“So, what do you want, Ed?”

Silence.

“Ed, whatever non-verbal communication that was, I don’t-” Oswald was cut off by a firm pair of lips pressing against his, too soft for their own good.

“Just kiss me, Oswald,” Ed breathed against him, pulling Oswald’s bottom lip between his teeth.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m actually...” Oswald mumbled, not bothering to finish as he felt Ed’s hands climb his arms like spiders. “Just kissing?”

“Just kissing,” Ed confirmed between kisses, metal frame glasses brushing coldly against Oswald’s skin.

“Cool, cool,” Oswald agreed. He could roll with that. Kissing Ed was just perfect. _Especially_ perfect when Ed’s tongue was sliding between Oswald’s lips, slick and searching, drawing out a soft moan from his chest.

“I wish you could see yourself,” Ed whispered breathlessly, pulling away.

“I’d rather see you,” Oswald countered, chasing the taste of Ed on his lips with his tongue.

“Come,” Ed instructed, hand slipping into his.

“Where?” Oswald questioned, following nonetheless.

“Horizontal surface,” Ed answered (and Oswald could tell he was distracted, using such _incomplete_ sentences). “Clothes stay on, though.”

“Understood,” Oswald replied. “Where do you want me?”

“You should lie on top, it’ll be better for your leg,” Ed replied quickly, already pulling Oswald down with him so landed down in a heap.

“Yeah, this is real helpful,” Oswald grumbled, slightly muffled from his mouth being pressed against Ed’s shirtfront, legs sticking up almost vertically behind him due to an armrest.

“Let me help,” Ed’s hands suddenly found his hips, and Oswald let himself be tugged forward, hands resting on Ed’s chest to balance himself as he hooked his feet over the armrest. “Better?”

“Better,” Oswald confirmed, playing with the button he’d found on Ed’s shirt.

“Can I kiss you again?”

Oswald rolled his eyes. “Like you even have to as-”

For once, Oswald Cobblepot didn’t give a shit about being interrupted.

_(I think I’m in love)_

A mix-up of information. That was all that dream had been, Oswald realised that now. Ed hadn’t been talking about someone else. No one could kiss like this and not mean it.

_(I think I’m in love)_

“Oswald,” Ed rumbled. “Stop humming.”

“Right, sorry.” Humming. Again.

He hadn’t even realized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. I'm pretty sure I came up with something to put here as I was writing the Jim and Harvey scene, but I can't remember and it's 2:18 so, I suppose, I'll ask you if anyone knows the answer to Ed's riddle? That might be relevant. Also, theories!!! I'm loving them, give me some :)
> 
> (Also, thanks for all the encouragement, because I had no intentions of this being a "good" fic, people just seem to think that, so thanks)


	6. As My Day is Done Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald begins to question the reality Edward has built around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!!!

Oswald laid in bed, fingers tapping against his arm beneath the covers, eyes blinking at the darkness. Edward was a furnace against his side, a leg thrown possessively over Oswald’s thigh, face pressed against his shoulder. He made soft, snuffling sounds, limbs occasionally twitching and seizing against him. Oswald wondered if he had nightmares too. Although, what about, Oswald wouldn’t have a clue.

Oswald sighed, resigning himself to this bout of sleeplessness. Perhaps he’d take a walk, clear his head. He knew this house like the back of his hand, a little wander wouldn’t cause much difficulty.

Shuffling out from beneath Ed despite his soft, muffled protests, Oswald resolved himself to his conceived notion of exercise. It would do him good.

He made his way slowly around the room, feeling the way out with his foot and his arms stretched out in front of him. His fingers brushed the wooden knob of the door and he turned it, opening the door to make his silent escape.

He crept down the hall, fingers pressed to the wall, sliding against the panels and counting door frames until-

“Hi, boss.”

Oswald yelled, pressing his back to the wall to face his attacker and fucking make them wish they'd never been born.

That was until, of course, he finally recognized the source of that grating voice.

“Victor Zsasz, you of all people should know better than to sneak up on me in my own house,” Oswald spat, pushing off the wall to take a glowering stance.

“But you were walking straight at me,” Zsasz exclaimed. “Oh, wait, that's right,” Zsasz snapped his fingers, the click loud in Oswald’s tired ears. “You have that whole, eh, blindness thing going on.”

“ _Temporary_ blindness,” Oswald corrected. “How do you even know about that?”

“Oh. Nygma told me,” Zsasz replied innocently.

“He _what?_ Who else has he told?” That wasn't a part of the plan at _all_. 

_Rule number one: No one could know about his blindness._

“Don't worry, boss, it's on a ‘need to know’ basis. I'm the one here, guarding you at night, so I need to know.”

“Since when?” Oswald asked, folding his arms against the chill of the night.

“Since you came back from the hospital. Nygma's been really strict on people's coming and going around here. Even made my guy do another background check on Olga, then did a once-over in a dark room himself.”

“Really?” Oswald raised his eyebrows. “Do you know who, specifically, he was trying to keep out?”

“Well, he said that if we see _any_ of Barbara Kean's crew, we should shoot on sight. Call it trespassing if anyone asks. Said if anyone gets close enough to even be heard from the house, he'll fry all our brains. I suppose that's Nygma go-to kill. A little bland for my tastes.”

“Oh no, he just likes to cut the brains open afterwards and look inside. It's just a phase he's going through,” Oswald dismissed distractedly. 

Keeping Barbara out, huh? Well, that wasn't so bad. Oswald could understand Ed's paranoia and threats. In fact, it was kind of… sweet?

“Oh, and there was Jim Gordon, of course!”

“What? Why Jim?” Oswald asked, standing up a little straighter.

“Dunno. We weren't supposed to shoot him though, just block access and rough him up a little. That was until he came with these files and started threatening Nygma about something. We’re supposed to let him in from now on. But I can stop that if you want. Whatever you want, boss.”

“No, keep it going,” Oswald shook his head. It was difficult to make sense of what it all meant. There seemed more to the puzzle than the edge-pieces Oswald had been privy to so far. He needed to search for some different shapes before the picture could be revealed.

And there was only one way he knew how.

“You know what?” Oswald forced a yawn from his throat, stretching his shoulders. “I'll probably just go back to bed. Not exactly the best plan of mine to take a walk at this hour, anyway.”

“Yeah, maybe you should wait until you can actually see the faces I've been pulling at you for the last ten minutes.”

Oswald frowned. “Right.”

Oswald made his way back down the hall, fingertips brushing along the wall all the way until he reached his door and snuck back to bed, pressing himself up against Ed’s side once more. Ed welcomed him with a sleepy snuffle and growl, one arm pulling him closer from the depths of unconsciousness.

Oswal took a deep breath, hands resting on his stomach. All he had to do was fall asleep. He could do that.

Slowly, his mind sunk away, odd sensations and pictures bubbling to the surface of his mind before resettling again.

Wet concrete, slick beneath Oswald’s polished shoes.

The soft patter of early rain before a storm arrives.

Droplets of water littering Ed’s glasses like carved crystal.

His heart, pulling in his chest.

Gravity.

(A gunshot.)

Then, the waves hit his head and he was pulled under.

♠ ♠ ♠

Oswald’s ears were clogged, water spilling inside him through a hole in his chest. It filled him up and flooded his veins, spoiling him like old milk until he was water as well. His eyes stayed open, watching hopelessly as blood billowed like an ash cloud above, the trail leading back to carved-out, rusty ribs. His heart was supposed to be in there.

Oswald thought he’d given it away.

Edward was supposed to have it.

(A gunshot. Wet tears on faces.)

(Oh, how water loved to disguise.)

_“He’s fierce in my dreams.”_

“Ed's safety is all that matters.”

Rain tapped against metal, echoed in hollow pipes. Sluggish; blocked. The roof was trying to keep the water from clogging his lungs. It wasn't doing a good enough job.

Ed's glasses, running like the windshield of a car with broken wiper blades. Oswald’s hands, clutching, trying their best to hold on. But the rope was too slippery.

He let go.

Blue lights flashed over blackwood covers, and he questioned how much of it had been real. Blind laughter was his only answer.

_“Seizing my guts.”_

“Ed!” Pulled him in, heartbeat too fast, both together racing for the border. They needed to escape. “Are you alright? Tell me that you’re alright.”

“I’m fine, Oswald.”

The room flashed, morphed. Blue light, there for a moment, then gone, and back again.

Blonde hair; curled too tight.

Laughter; victorious.

Not his own. Never his own.

“Give up Nygma. Save your own ass. Live to love another day, hey!” She squealed. Why was she so happy?

(“Barbara took advantage of your situation. She wanted to be in charge the moment you let her have a seat at the table.”)

“Who dared to think that they could lay their hands on you?” He'd kill them, first chance he got, whoever hurt Ed, he’d kill them.

(“She wants you dead.”)

“I’m alone.” Ed looked at him like he was seeing someone else. Oswald couldn’t tell where he’d gone wrong.

_“He floats me with dread.”_

“You escaped. You did! You rascal.” Oswald felt pulled into that other man's current, helpless but to touch him in every way except the one he truly desired.

“Did you bring anyone else?” Ed was a rock, immovable, the water passing him by.

“What? Why? No, I-” Oswald stuttered out. It was him, it was actually him, the dim light shining on Ed's face dramatically, making Oswald's heart race and race and-

Two gunshots.

(A hand clutching his newfound nail-hole.)

Ed's gun.

(Blood spilling over cold fingers.)

“I-I don't understand.”

(Pressure then pain.)

“I know. That's been half the fun.”

(A last gasping breath.)

(It was over.)

Oswald fell backwards, water swirling above him, metal creaking against his back.

“I did it for love.”

(“I do love you, Oswald.”)

(“Thank God.”)

_“Soaked in soul, he swims in my eyes by the bed.”_

(“I _don't_ love you.”)

“What?” Ed spat. Close. Not enough.

“I did it because I love you. You should know that.” There was a hole in his chest and he just let it happen.

(“I don't deserve you.”)

“ **SHUT UP**.” Ed’s hand on his face, harsh, not at all how it was supposed to be. “Love is about sacrifice. It’s about putting someone else’s needs and happiness before your own.”

“Ed, please-” He could barely see, blood and blue light straining his eyes and staining his hands.

“The truth is, Oswald, you would sacrifice anyone to save your own neck. Even me.”

Oswald shook his head, blonde curls and blue light flashing in his eyes again. Barbara giggled, hugging against his back. Oswald scoffed.

“How did it go? You put together what happened to Ed’s librarian? Turned him against me?” he questioned. Blood. Water. Shark meat.

(“I'm-”)

(“It's not your fault.”)

“Honestly…” Too close, water breath in his ear. “-wasn’t too hard,” Barbara purred.

Water poured from her mouth and he knew what kind of woman she was.

_“Pour myself over him.”_

“My, my, didn’t take you long to turn on each other.”

(“O-Oswald, I'm… I hope that it's okay that I came to see you.”)

Ed's turned back. Fear's feet pounding against the concrete of his heart. Oswald couldn't bear to lose him.

(“Oswald? Oswald, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I-”)

“Ed- please, please, I can change!”

(“I couldn't. But I'm ready now.”)

(Oswald didn't belong turtled on his back.)

“Say you’re right, say you’re right, the fact I love you proves that I can change.”

Oswald winced as the lights flashed, melancholia drenching his clothes to weigh him down.

Pebbles in pockets.

“You’re right. I should want him dead.” He was the one laughing this time, heart in his throat to choke him on the way out.

“Should?” Leaning in, Barbara's swinging curls framed her face as if floating underwater. “Oswald, you _loved_ him and he betrayed you.”

(“I didn't mean to, I'm sorry.”)

(“I loved her. And you killed her.”)

(“I don't love you.”)

“Actually, I don’t know that I did.” Oswald shook his head, water spraying from his ears like surf breaks. “-Love him. Not really.”

“What?”

_“Moon spilling in.”_

Ed growled above him, wild and savage.

(“Don't worry, I know CPR.”)

Ed’s hands on his chest, pumping for life.

“You know as well as I that a man facing death-”

(“This will be the cold-blooded murder of someone you love.”)

“-Will say anything to save his skin.”

(“I _don’t_ love you.”)

“And you won’t change. Because you _can’t_.”

The blue lights swung slow, burst water pipe in his chest.

“Ed said love is sacrifice.” (A gunshot.) “I should’ve been able to sacrifice my happiness for his. I couldn’t. But I’m ready now.”

Water on their faces, the garden hose turned onto dead flowers.

(“Ed, I love you. I know you believe that now.”)

It didn't change a thing.

_“And I wake up…”_

Blue lights canting, tipping, falling. Oswald's long forgotten miss-jump to conclusions. He was living between worlds like time had escaped him and learned to fix itself.

“So you’d rather die than give up the man who tried to kill you?” Barbara could never see the truth even when he was laughing in her face.

“I would! Isn’t that crazy?” (Laugh like you mean it.)

“ **Yes**. It **is**.” 

_“...Alone.”_

♠ ♠ ♠

“Oswald.” He blinked: _**black**_. “You're awake.”

Oswald frowned, wondering how he knew. Maybe he'd heard the gasp.

“What time is it?” he asked instead.

“Six thirty-one.” Oswald groaned, massaging his temples with sleep-slowed fingers.

God, maybe he should have just let his mayoral ship sink all the way, and drown himself along with it.

“Hey,” a finger tipped Oswald's chin upwards, away from clawed fingertips. “It's… Everything is…” Ed seemed to be searching for the right words. “I've got you, okay. I won't… let you fall.”

Somehow, Oswald understood.

“Thank you,” Oswald told him quietly, humming gratefully as warm fingers stroked through his hair. Ed's breathing did something funny, like the stumbling note of a grade school orchestra, and Oswald found his cheek pressed to worn-out cotton as Ed hugged him tight.

Oswald smiled, leaning back to tap his index finger against his lips. Ed acquiesced, kissing him gentle and sweet enough to melt like snow in Summer.

Oswald's heart pounded too hard, and he pressed a hand over it to keep it contained.

_Blood spilling over cold fingers._

He shivered, a musical note on his breath. It didn't belong here.

“So,” Ed's teeth clacked loudly like anxious train tracks. “Any dreams?”

“Well…” Oswald trailed off, thinking back on it. Water, pouring through him. Gunshots, one too many. Ed’s face twisted, untwisted, twisted back again. Barbara, eyes too bright, laugh too loud. Blue lights and a song he didn’t know the words to.

“Oswald?”

“Yes,” he turned his face up to show he was listening.

“You were humming again,” Ed whispered despondently.

“I keep doing that, don’t I?” Oswald sighed, frowning.

“Yes,” Ed whispered, so close Oswald could hear the click of a swallow, the tremor in his breathing. “You do.”

Oswald pursed his lips as he found himself wishing to examine Ed’s features once more and derive some kind of meaning from the audible fear in his throat. “It’s okay. I don’t think it means anything - good or bad. Just my brain working and rewiring, I guess.”

Ed hummed softly, inhaling loudly in the quiet space between them. “Os-”

“I mean, I’m not exactly the leading expert in this area. You probably know a lot more than I do.” Oswald continued, hoping the subtle compliment may soothe Ed’s fears. “What do you think it’s about?”

“I-” Ed stopped. Oswald smiled encouragingly, urging him to continue. “I… can’t say, really. P-perhaps this is a normal stage of recovery. Music with repetitive beats is known to help the brain focus and such. Maybe your brain is using the song to refocus and… and r-remember.”

_Oswald’s back pressed against metal, Ed’s scowl distorted through watered eyes above him, holding him captive in more than just a gaze._

“Well, I wish it would make it easier to tell the difference between what’s real and what’s not, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers.” Oswald shrugged.

“No, they can’t,” Ed laughed, a beat too late. “I- how do you feel about breakfast in bed today? I could get Olga to prepare a tray.”

Oswald smiled disbelievingly. “What, did I forget my birthday as well?”

“No, it’s just that… you know the Beneficiary Ball is tonight, so I think it’s best that you relax a little until then.”

“Oh, the ball,” Oswald raised his eyebrows. “I completely forgot about that.”

“Well, I think it’ll be a good chance for you to prove to the public that you are fully recovered and as unstoppable as ever,” Ed surmised.

“You’re right, as always,” Oswald laughed softly. Unstoppable. He rather liked the sound of that.

“I’ll go tell Olga, then?”

“Please do.”

Oswald smiled, ears following the sound of Ed’s footsteps as they waned away.

_A gunshot. Wet tears on faces. Oh, how water loved to disguise._

Oswald shivered himself back, taking a mental step away from last night’s tall tales. There inlaid the issue; last night’s dreams, if he could call them that, had simply made no sense at all. When Oswald had ventured out to sleep in search of puzzle pieces, he’d hoped for some clear answers. Instead, he’d come back with pieces that didn’t even seem to belong to the same puzzle. 

He could recall certain moments, remembered shouting, Ed’s hoarse voice, the naked feeling in his eyes. Perhaps it was a memory. Maybe they’d had a fight before all of this? That made sense. Couples fought all the time. And it would certainly explain why Ed had been acting so strange and guilt-ridden. It offered a simple solution, too: Oswald just needed to reassure him that he didn’t care about whatever nonsense they were fighting over in the past; Oswald loved him, no matter what.

And that was all well and good. Not particularly eventful or eye-opening, but at least tied up nicely with a big bow of understanding. But then came the rest of it.

_“How did it go? You put together what happened to Ed’s librarian? Turned him against me?”_

That simply made no sense. It _couldn’t_ be real. It certainly hadn’t felt real, with the flashing blue lights and Barbara’s overzealous laughter.

But Oswald _knew_ he’d seen Barbara before the incident, Edward had told him himself. So how could it not be true?

“Oswald.” Ed's voice shuttered through the air. Oswald must have missed the sound of the door opening.

“Humming?” he guessed.

“Yeah,” Ed replied quietly. He really didn’t like Oswald’s singing voice, it seemed. Or maybe it was the song. Maybe the lyrics were sad or held some kind of meaning to him.

“What’s for breakfast?”

A warm tray was set atop Oswald’s thighs. “We have some porridge and a couple other things. I figured you'd want some practice with your spoon since you'll be eating publicly tonight.”

“That was very thoughtful, thank you.”

“I suppose we can use more of today for practising if you'd like.”

“That seems reasonable to me.” Oswald accepted the spoon Ed pressed into his hand, feeling around for the edge of his bowl before he dug in.

“It being a ball, there’ll be dancing as well,” Ed informed him, a cautious edge to his tone.

“Oh.” Oswald blinked black.

“You don’t _have_ to-”

“No, no, it’s a good idea,” Oswald placated him. “I don’t know if I’ve told you, but I used to be quite the dancer in my youth.”

“Oh?” Ed giggled. “Then this will be easy.”

Oswald tilted his head from side to side. “Maybe.”

“Shall I read you the paper?” Ed offered, his weight sinking into the mattress beside him.

“Sure,” Oswald agreed between bites.

“Well, let’s see here…” The paper rustled as Ed opened it. “We’ll just skip the football on the first page, alright?”

Oswald nodded.

“Ooh, they mention the ball in here. Everyone seems eager for another public appearance from you. _‘All eyes will be on the Mayor tonight as we see just how well he’s recovered since being shot by an unknown individual and spending several weeks in Gotham City’s Hospital. Our personal prediction at the daily mail…_ ”

Oswald slowly tuned out, feeling his spoon scrape against the bottom of his bowl.

_“...the Mayor was deposited into the river and left for dead, only to be recovered sometime later by the coast-guard…”_

Oswald tapped his spoon against his teeth, the clink-clink rhythmic like the drip-drip of water tapping against hollow pipes.

_“This will be the cold-blooded murder of someone you love.”_

Oswald blinked his eyes open and shut; no change, only _black_.

_“...shot by an unknown individual…”_

Ed was still reading, voice playing like backing music.

_“...Mayor Cobblepot couldn’t identify...”_

“Edward.” Oswald swallowed his nerves.

_“Mr Nygma told us he got there just in time to see the man leave. He took a long time trying to locate you, and when he couldn’t, he had to call the coastguard to send divers to find you.”_

“Yes?”

Oswald’s heart rate was spiking, fleeing his chest.

“You…” he licked his lips. “I’m just trying to understand, here.”

“O-of course,” Ed’s weight shifted, newspaper rustling. “Go ahead.”

“So, you called the coastguard to find me… when?” Oswald held his breath.

“Oh, well,” Ed cleared his throat, hand accidentally brushing Oswald’s and leaping out of reach. “I saw you drop in the water, b-but I can’t swim so-”

“You-” Oswald’s shoulders stiffened. “You saw me go into the water?”

Ed’s breath hissed like a snake. “From a-a distance, yes.”

“So, you saw who did it?” Oswald’s voice echoed.

“No.” Ed exhaled in the quiet. “I-I saw them leave, and you were in the water, and I knew something was wrong, so I wanted to help you and I let them escape, but I didn’t think you’d mind, but I couldn’t get you out of the water, and I-I can’t swim and so I panicked and I called the coastguard and I’m _sorry-_ ”

“It’s okay, Ed,” Oswald frowned, trying to process Ed’s rapid-fire words. “You made the right choice.”

“Thank you,” Ed breathed like a marathon runner.

“Do you have any idea what time that was?” Oswald asked, twisting his spoon around in his fingers.

“N-no, sorry,” Ed admitted. “Th-the proper authorities probably have a record kept somewhere, but-”

“Hmm,” Oswald smacked his lips together. “Perhaps Jim…”

“M-maybe,” Ed agreed shakily.

“We can always ask.”

“O-of course!” Ed replied. “I-I’ll call him later today if you like?”

“Yes, please,” Oswald smiled.

“O-okay,” Ed’s weight shifted again. “Okay, I’ll do that.”

“Ed?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for saving me,” Oswald brushed his hand over Ed’s lap until he found his hand.

“I- _yes_.” Ed swallowed. “You’re welcome.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, [happy birthday to me](https://zebrashavestripes.tumblr.com/). The next chapter is already finished and will be posted soon enough 🎉


	7. He Swims in My Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald goes to the Benefit Ball. He learns something new about Edward Nygma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, bear with me on this one.

“Funnily enough, when you mentioned something about a package, I was kind of thinking a sex thing. Not this.”

Ed cleared his throat awkwardly, breath washing over Oswald's face. “Rest assured, then, that it was merely this.”

“I don't know. I'm very interested in your sex things,” Oswald snorted, adjusting the fit of his soft velvet gloves. The texture was achingly familiar, conjuring a sense of nostalgia for times gone by. “Still, I can _feel_ how good this suit is.”

“Well, you did choose it yourself,” Ed reminded him softly.

“I just wish I could see it,” Oswald sighed.

“There, I think that should be enough.” Ed snapped the cap back onto the mascara, hands finding Oswald's to help him stand and take a few steps forward.

“How do I look?” Oswald twisted and turned with his arms spread wide.

“Like I dressed you,” Ed answered.

“I don’t know if that means good or bad,” Oswald snorted, reaching down to fiddle with his cufflinks in a familiar gesture.

“Well, I _did_ dress you,” Ed stated matter of factly.

“I know, dear,” Oswald rolled his eyes. “How much time do we have? I think punctuality would be ideal for this situation.”

“Not ‘fashionably late’?”

“Not when recovering my image, I don’t think,” Oswald shook his head curtly. “Arriving at the precise time seems perfectly measured, whilst saving me from the image of ‘trying to look cool’ or whatever nonsense.”

“Indeed,” Ed agreed simply. “Well, if punctuality is your aim, we might as well leave now.”

In the car, Oswald felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, Ed's gaze brushing against his skin like the chilling graze of cold, wet fingertips.

“What's wrong?” Oswald asked, squirming at the queasy feeling in his stomach. “Did you mess up the eyeliner again?”

“No. At least, I don't think so.”

“Then, what is it?” Oswald twisted his fingers over the familiar penguin head of his cane.

“You…” Ed exhaled slowly. Oswald held his breath. “You'll keep close to me tonight? You'll try to be careful?”

“Of course!” Oswald sighed. “Besides, we have Zsasz in the car behind us. If things escalate unexpectedly, I won't hesitate to bring him in.”

“Okay. And tell me if you want to leave at any point tonight, and we'll just go.”

Oswald pursed his lips. “Why do I feel like I should be telling you the same thing?”

“You don't have to worry about me.”

“I don't?” Oswald huffed. “Well, that's a relief. Whatever shall I do with my time now?”

“Worry about _yourself_ , hopefully.”

“Don't I have _you_ for that?” Oswald joked.

“Yes,” Ed confirmed, something softer in his tone. “You do.”

♠ ♠ ♠

Oswald kept his eyes open, endeavouring to give the appearance of scanning the room as he walked in, Ed's arm looped through his own.

“Are you sure you want to walk with me like this?” Ed asked _again_. “People will definitely talk.”

“And so they should,” Oswald told him astutely, encouraging him forward. “The past me was an idiot for hiding you away. You're my partner and equal. To hell with people and their talk.”

“Be careful there, Mr Cobblepot.” Ed laughed, taking the lead and guiding Oswald where ever he was supposed to go. “We don't want a repeat of your last scandal.”

“Hey, that's Mayor Cobblepot to you.” Oswald grinned as Ed subtly guided his hand to the back of a chair and helped him pull it out.

“Thank you.” Oswald took his seat, feeling Ed do the same.

“So...” Oswald leant closer to him. “Who will we be seated with this evening?”

“You'll have a Dr Robert Carson on your left. I have Lady Emily Southern on my right, and across from us is Colonel Harvey Mason and his wife, Mrs Lavinia Mason.”

“I suppose we'll be stuck with them for most of the evening, then?”

“I suppose so,” Ed agreed. “Would you like to practice your eyeline quickly before everyone else is seated?”

Oswald nodded.

“Okay, now let's start with straight ahead.” Oswald concentrated, guessing at the distance across the table and imagining an object in his mind's eye to focus on that far away.

“Good, now a notch to the right for the colonel. A bit further.” Oswald adjusted accordingly. “Perfect. Now, look at me.” Oswald realized that this would be more difficult to get right, Ed being all the more closer, but he tried his best. 

“Ah, a notch higher,” Ed instructed. Oswald followed accordingly. “Good, now turn to your left and do the exact same thing.”

“I think that's all we can do for now,” Oswald whispered as the soft jazz band began to quieten down.

A speaker screeched feedback as someone tested their mic, tapping it twice. “Heh - Welcome, everyone,” the speaker greeted shakily. “It's lovely to, uh, see you all here tonight. O-of course, there are a lot of guests who made a special effort to be here tonight. List of names. And, of course, Gotham's very own Mayor, Mr Cobblepot. I know he's had a rough go of it lately so it's great to see him here in one piece.”

Oswald nodded obligingly, gritting his teeth to keep the scowl off his face.

“I'm s-sure all of you are wondering when the surprise guest is coming. D-don't worry, everybody! She… she will be here soon!” 

“Did they really have to ask the worst speaker in the country to M.C. this thing? Did he practice for this at all?” Oswald hissed into Ed's ear.

“Clearly not or he would have remembered to do his fly up.”

“You mean he-”

“Now, I-I'll ask all y'all to take your seats. The first course will be served moment-momentarily.”

“Yes,” Ed answered.

Oswald snorted. “How unfortunate.”

It took a few minutes for the other guests to join them at their table, Oswald’s hand twitching beneath the table cloth as he tried to appear normal.

The married couple arrived first; Colonel what’s-his-face Mason and his wife. His voice travelled as he spoke, booming thunder that Oswald tried not to wince at with his ears so intuned. The wife seemed nice enough; cordial and polite when she greeted Oswald, although she clearly wasn’t the most interesting of types. She started up a conversation about landscaping and the trouble she and her husband were experiencing at their home, but Oswald was too busy concentrating on keeping track of eye-lines and how fast his heart was beating to do more than nod along.

The doctor joined next, his clipped syllables and smug lilting voice grating Oswald’s nerves a little, but the man kept to himself, or at least whatever lady it was sat to his other side.

Then came Lady Southerland, who spoke little more than a hello to each of them before scraping her chair out and remaining mostly silent until the end of Mrs Mason’s dragged-out tale of gardening adventures.

“Your first course is here, ladies, gentlemen and others.” Oswald thanked the heavens, leaning back to let the waiter place his dish in front of him. “Onion soup for the kind Mr Mayor and his gentleman friend.”

“Oh, I’m not-”

“Nonsense, darling,” Oswald spoke quickly, hand shooting out and finding Ed’s wrist. “Of course you are a gentleman.”

“Right,” the server coughed awkwardly before moving on, “The Caesar salad for Mrs Mason-”

Oswald silently thanked Ed for ordering them both soup, something Oswald could actually eat without looking conspicuous, plus, Ed ordering it too would make it seem like something they both happened to enjoy, not a pointed choice.

Or perhaps Oswald was overthinking things.

_Ed's gun._

_“I-I don't understand.”_

Oswald shivered, shaking himself free if only to remain on task. He needed to _concentrate_ , goddammit.

“Are you alright?” Ed whispered softly.

“Fine,” Oswald lied, straightened his back, powered through.

Mrs Mason started to break off into a separate conversation with Lady Southerland whilst the colonel began a discussion with the doctor and his lady friend, leaving Oswald in a blessed respite with Ed by his side.

“So, there isn’t any donations or anything? No silent auction?” Oswald inquired.

“Nothing,” Ed confirmed.

“You were right about the whole ‘benefitting who?’ thing,” Oswald told him, raising his brows.

Ed chuckled. “Finish your soup.”

Oswald went back to selling his ruse, snippets of conversation leaking in through his open ears.

“Chinese silk is _so_ exquisite, you should try-”

Hand kept steady.

“You see, money these days-”

Eyes locked to where his spoon seemed to be.

“Stitches so small, you’d need a microscope-”

Concentrate, concentrate, con-

Ed’s calf brushed against his before snapping away again like a frisson of electricity.

“It’s a 70-year-old whiskey, and you think _I’m_ going to pay-”

Oswald really wished he wouldn’t do that.

“Honestly, worth every cent-”

Ed just kept pulling back from him.

“I mean, what did he take me for?”

_“The truth is, Oswald, you would sacrifice anyone to save your own neck. Even me.”_

“Ooh, green is definitely your colour.”

Oswald bit his tongue and tried to stay in the world around him.

A microphone screeched and Oswald’s head snapped up again.

“H-hey, everyone.” Oh, not _again_. “Just letting Y'all know that the dance floor will be opening up shortly after the next course. S-so soon!”

“Poor Lazlo,” Mrs Mason simpered. Oswald quickly diverted his gaze to focus on her. “He’s never been the same since his wife Andrea died.”

_“Ed, are you alright? Tell me you’re alright.”_

“Second course, ladies and gentlemen.” Oswald gritted his teeth and leaned back again, something tying knots in his stomach.

Ed had never mentioned anything to him about being in danger before everything transpired.

“Andrea? Didn’t I read about that in one of the local rags?”

Well, of course, he didn’t. Ed had been swept up by everything that had happened after, everything _relevant_. Ed was just trying to focus on what was important. Ed wanted to protect him.

_“Nygma's been really strict on people's coming and going around here. Even made my guy do another background check on Olga, then did a once-over in a dark room himself.”_

_“Love is about sacrifice.”_

Shivers.

“I heard that it’s a homicide. Lazlo’s one of the suspects.”

_Two gunshots._

_(A hand clutching his newfound nail-hole.)_

_Ed's gun._

Oswald shook his head: it was all out of context nonsense.

Ed’s hand brushed his arm purposefully and Oswald smiled reflexively, reaching to scrape his fork around where the middle of his plate would be. Ed had ordered him the fish, it seemed, and Oswald let out a relieved breath as he felt the flesh pull apart under the mere drag of his fork.

“Suspected of killing his own wife? Are you sure?”

_“Don’t trust anyone.”_

_“You trust me, don’t you, Oswald?”_

Oswald did. He knew he did.

Ed’s hand brushed his arm again.

How could he not trust him?

“I’ve no idea, but the guy’s got money, and this is Gotham.”

Oswald tore his teeth through fish flesh before the words could come.

“So you think he could have done it?”

_“Is it done?”_

“I’m just saying he had the means.”

“But motive?”

“Maybe he was seeing someone on the side.”

_“I think I’m in love.”_

“Probably still is.”

“Could he really go through with it, though?”

_Ed’s gun._

_“Oswald? Oswald, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I-”_

“No.”

Oswald lifted his gaze to stare at where Ed’s head was supposed to be.

“Not in the end.”

“What makes you think that?” Mr Mason asked.

“A gut feeling, I suppose.”

“A gut feeling?”

“Ed has a six sense about these things,” Oswal piped up quickly, resting a hand on what could only be Ed’s knee. “He took criminology on top of his degree at Gotham University.”

“Ooh, a man of prestige! Well done, ol’ fellow.”

“Yes, thank you,” Ed replied lowly.

Like a heaven send, Oswald heard the band strike up, a piano and other instruments Oswald wasn’t overly familiar with pouring out a new melody.

“Ooh, darling, shall we dance?” Mrs Mason asked.

“We shall.”

The chairs across from them scraped against the floor, shoes clicking away.

“How ‘bout it, girl?”

The only response was a giggle before the doctor seemed to make his exit too.

“Do you want to?” Ed asked lowly.

“Maybe later,” Oswald proposed. “I think I just need a moment to breathe.”

_Water clogged lungs._

“I can understand that.”

Oswald nodded.

Perhaps it was this place, full of voices he didn’t recognise, doing his head in. Oswald was overthinking things, pulling things he knew to be true apart simply out of boredom. The dreams were messing with his head again, creating all sorts of nonsense. Or the blindness - driving him _mad_ with the need to see things the way they were.

The song seemed to finish as the microphone screeched once more.

“Heh, hey everyone. Glad everyone’s enjoying the party. I know everyone’s been wondering about the special guest tonight, so w-without further ado, here she is folks!”

People started clapping, obviously recognising whomever this mystery woman is.

“Who is she?” Oswald whispered in Ed’s ear.

“No idea,” Ed replied.

“That fucking announcer forgot to say her name.” Oswald shook his head. “What does she look like?”

“Well, it’s big hair, tattoos and eyeliner, as far as I can tell.”

Oswald frowned, nodding. “I like the sound of that.”

“Okay, let’s, uh… play some stuff. And then, y’know, I’ll get into the hits.”

People cheered, apparently excited.

“She’s a singer?”

“I suppose so.”

“Do you want to dance now? Are you feeling up to it?”

Oswald shrugged. This would be the final step in proving to everyone that he was okay.

Which he was. Of course. 

“I may have to bow out in the middle of it, but we’ll see how it goes.”

Ed’s hand captured his own and he helped him to his feet. Ed led him across the floor, presumably to the dance partition.

“All I can ever be to you is a darkness that we knew,” the woman sang. She had quite a unique voice, rather familiar in fact.

“Are you ready for this?” Ed asked.

“Yes,” Oswald replied steadily.

They began moving in small, simple circles. There would be no point in tempting fate with a series of over-the-top turns and dips. 

_**“** He walks away, the sun goes down. He takes the day, but I'm grown. And in your way, in this blue shade, my tears dry on their own. **”**_

“How are you feeling, Oswald?” Ed asked.

“Honestly?” Oswald shrugged, keeping in step with his partner. “Tired. It's like I've done nothing at all for days and now everything's happening at once.”

Ed's hand flexed in his. “I understand that.”

Oswald frowned. “There's no need to be nervous, Ed. I think we've done a great job so far.”

“Well, of course, you have,” Ed told him. “You're a far better liar than I could ever be.”

_**“** I should just be my own best friend, not fuck myself in the head with stupid men. **”**_

“What makes you think that?” Oswald asked.

“You never get caught,” Ed stated.

“And you do?” Oswald inquired.

“Eventually,” Ed answered.

_**“** So we are history. Your shadow covers me, the sky above ablaze. **”**_

“Oh dear.” They stopped dancing and Oswald listened to the rustling sound of Ed digging into his pockets. His phone was ringing, Oswald could hear the soft vibrations.

“Who is it?” Oswald asked.

“Nothing important,” Ed replied quickly.

Oswald shrugged. “Then don't answer it.”

“I have to,” Ed sighed.

“What?”

“Look, just, uh, come with me.” Oswald yelped as a hand clamped around his wrist and tugged.

“Ed!” he protested. “This is extremely counterproductive to our purpose here.”

“Fine, um-” Ed looped Oswald's arm through his before leading him away.

“Where am I?” Oswald demanded.

“By the door,” Ed blurted out in a rush, stopping abruptly to clutch Oswald’s forearms.

“Edward, what the hell is going on?” Oswald gritted out between his teeth, grasping desperately at his semblance of control even as it attempted to escape him.

“The call, it’s, uh, not important enough to concern you, but, erm, I still need to answer it,” Ed explained quickly, one hand letting go Oswald to rustle around his clothing apparently.

“Who’s calling you?” Oswald asked, his voice coloured as if he was angry. He wasn’t angry. Maybe he should’ve been angry. Maybe Ed was doing something that ought to make him angry.

“Nobody, it doesn’t matter,” Ed babbled. “Look, uh, just stay here, and I’ll come back as soon as it’s over, I pro-”

“You’re leaving me here?” Oswald interrupted incredulously.

“Just for a-” Ed began.

“Rule number four, Ed!” Oswald hissed, desperately trying to hide his fury from whoever could be watching their dispute. “We stay together!”

“Oswald, I need to…” Ed trailed off.

“Ed,” Oswald growled lowly, a warning.

“I’m sorry.” Oswald could hear the ragged edge in Ed’s voice, the shattering. “I’m so sorry.”

_If you’re so sorry, then why are you leaving me?_

Oswald shook his head and forced the thought from his mind, balling his hand into a fist. “It’s fine. Just go. I can cope on my own.” Of course, he could. He was the King of Gotham.

“I-I… sorry.” Ed’s footstep retreated quickly, almost like he was running away.

Oswald sighed and wished his eyes would fucking work already.

The room's noise slowly crept up on him, a cacophony of laughter, the tinkling of glass, the booms and tittering of conversation, various footsteps moving back and forth and round and round. Oswald had nothing to focus on.

He didn’t dare to move from his spot, like the tiniest shuffle of a step could tip the world balance enough to make it come crashing down.

He could hear the song ending, the woman singing the last running note, raspy voice carrying through the speaker which must’ve been nearby. People clapped politely as the background music cut out, a few shouting names of songs Oswald wasn’t familiar with.

“Th-thank you,” the singer mumbled into the mic. “Um, this next one I’m-I’m gonna do is - it’s called ‘wake up alone’, so, yeah.”

Oswald’s fingers twitched towards his chest unconsciously, and he felt a sudden ache.

_**“** It's okay in the day, I'm staying busy. **”**_

Oswald’s heart thumped in his ears. Something was very wrong.

_**“** Tied up enough so I don't have to wonder ‘where is he?’ **”**_

(A resolute chair at the end of the table. A ticking clock which would never stop.)

_**“** Got so sick of crying. **”**_

Oswald huffed a breath, hand flexing. If only he could see, then maybe he could truly _focus_.

_**“** So just lately. **”**_

Tick, tock, tick, tock. _(I love you, why aren’t you here?)_

Oswald bit his tongue hard.

_**“** When I catch myself, I do a one-eighty. **”**_

Hands scrambled for purchase on his composure. _(It’s been hours now, where are you?)_

_(I love you.)_

_**“** I stay up, clean the house. **”**_

( _“When you didn’t come home, I assumed the worst.”)_ Desperation wasn’t a good look on him.

Oswald cleared his throat and loosened his collar. The air was stifling, going to his head. He felt faint.

_**“** At least I'm not drinking. **”**_

_(“I’m better than okay.”)_ Oswald's heart thumped hard, blinking stars behind his eyelids. 

_(Dear Edward in the sky, shining like diamonds, please don’t take my heart away.)_

Oswald’s right foot stumbled back.

_**“** Run around just so I don't have to think about thinking. **”**_

_(“I think I’m in love.”)_ Oswald’s head spun, and he searched for something to lean on, but all around him was water, or air, or both.

_(Once upon a time there was a girl named Isabelle. She stole my man’s heart and they ran away. And what did I do?)_

_**“** That silent sense of content that everyone gets just disappears 'soon as the sun sets. **”**_

_(I stopped them.)_

Oswald breathed through his mouth, his stomach heaving, river water crawling up his throat.

_(“Is it done?”)_

“Mister Mayor, are you okay?”

_**“** He’s fierce in my dreams- **”**_

“No, I’m afraid not,” he choked out.

Something cold slammed against his chest as he felt the water swallow him whole.

♠ ♠ ♠

_“He’s fierce in my dreams, seizing my guts.”_

Oswald opened his eyes, breathing the water down.

“T-tell me more.”

Her name was Isabelle _(“Isabella!”)_ , she looked like the late Miss Kringle _(“These were her glasses,”)_ and Ed was in love.

_(“I could have lived my life with the woman I loved. I could have been happy.”)_

_“He floats me with dread.”_

Water sloshed down his front, dripping from his nostrils.

“Are you sure you’re not mistaking infatuation for love?” Oswald asked, watching his reflection warp and distort in the mirror like it was a river bed. _(“I don’t know that I did. **Love** him. Not really.”)_ Falling (drowning) too deep.

“You did say she is the spitting image of Kringle.”

Oswald turned around, saw the water dripping from Ed’s twisted features, a gun in his hands _(two gunshots)_.

“I loved her, Oswald.”

Oswald stumbled back into the mirror, let the water incase him.

“And you killed her.”

_(“Love. Makes people do crazy things, doesn’t it?”)_

_“Soaked in soul, he swims in my eyes by the bed.”_

_(“Who am I to stand in the way of love?”)_

Oswald stepped forward, standing in front of her. Her eyes were frozen-over lakes, and Oswald could see where Ed must have cracked the ice and fallen through.

“It’s over.” A snicker leaked through a faulty pipe, Oswald’s stomach clenching and flinching like teeth had torn away his flesh. “He is not going to see you anymore. Do not try to contact him. That door is closed.” Smiles spilling from his lips. “Have a nice life.”

_Someone was trying to get his attention, but water was so hard to hear through._

Oswald frowned, gaze static.

The heartbroken look in Ed’s eye. Oswald was certain he’d put it there.

“I know it was you, Oswald. Isabella was my everything, and you took her from me. And now I’ve taken everything from you.”

_Oswald?_

“It is a shock.” The scene flickered like a candle. He felt it, his limbs moving without control, someone held him down. “But, besides your odd resemblance to his ex.” He blinked, twice. Too many images overlayed each other, the water, the girl, Ed, _the ceiling?_ “A-a certain facility with riddles.” 

Something was choking out his air, pouring water down his throat like he’d asked for it.

“Compulsion for order…” _(No. They were not meant to be. Not meant to be.)_

Oswald felt a knife in his hand and a heart in his mouth.

“What is it that you two really have in common?” He bit down. Blood spilt over taste buds. 

_(“Of course, I didn’t want to stand in the way of love, but…”)_

_(Blinking furious like a heartbeat.)_

_(“This woman would have been a disaster.”)_

_“Pour myself over him.”_

Back pressed against the ground like a man strung-up.

“I did it for love.” Oswald’s hands shook apart, the flesh swelled.

“What?” Heartbeat quickening, the world a blur.

“I did it because I love you. You should know that.” Oswald shivered it out.

_(“Ed, I love you. I know you believe that now.”)_

“SHUT UP.” Ed’s hand on his face. Pressure. 

_Wake up!_

“Love is about sacrifice. It’s about putting someone else’s needs and happiness before your own.”

_(“You love her. Yet, to protect her, you are willing to break up with her.”)_

“Ed, please-”

“The truth is, Oswald,” Ed’s face was too close but not close enough. “You would sacrifice anyone to save your own neck. Even me.”

_(“What about poor Ed? He will be… h-heartbroken.”)_

“Ed- please, please, I can change! Say you’re right, say you’re right, the fact that I love you proves that I can change. Just give me a chance.”

_(“So you’d rather die than give up the man who tried to kill you?”_

“You know as well as I that a man facing death will say anything to save his skin. And you won’t change. Because you _can’t_.”

_(“I would. Isn’t that crazy?”)_

_“Moon spilling in.”_

“You’re right.” Whispers broken like bullet shards.

 _Oswald? Oswald?_

“I don’t deserve him.” _(I’m sure of it.)_

“But I’m not going to let him go.”

_(“Is it done?”)_

_(“I will **not** let you leave!”)_

“He loves me. And I love him. Do you know how rare that is Mister Mayor?” 

Shuddered, river water sloshing over the cup to spill across his sleeve.

“Listen to me. You little idiot. I am telling you one last time: Let. Ed. Go.”

_(“Gotta give her credit. She fought for him. Too bad she underestimated her opponent.”)_

_“And I wake up…”_

“Of course, you do. Because you love him too.”

_Oswald? Please?_

_(“Oswald? Oswald, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I-”)_

_(“Get away from me.”)_

The ice in Isabelle’s eyes cracked, distorted, her smile smeared over her face. She laid there, cold.

_(“Did she suffer?”)_

“I’m not going to let him go.”

He sniffed in the water, trapped it in his lungs, let it escape like a laugh. “Very well. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

_“...Alone.”_

♠ ♠ ♠

“Oswald? Oswald?” Ed’s hysterical voice broke through the black patched over his eyes, Oswald’s head automatically turning to the sound before he remembered what it was, exactly, that prevented him from seeing.

“Wh-where am I?” Oswald asked, hands scrabbling in Ed’s direction, catching nothing.

“You’re in the billiard room, Mister Mayor,” another voice spoke up. “We thought it best to move you out of the main area.

“Oh?” Oswald’s head was spinning.

“Yes, now, could you please tell your infernal assistant to _calm down_ ,” someone more recognisable demanded. Oswald thought he recognised the man as the doctor from his table.

“He’s not my assistant,” Oswald snapped. “Where is he?”

“Your bodyguard is trying to calm him down.” Bodyguard?

“Zsasz, bring Ed here,” Oswald called, pleased when he heard footsteps enter the room and Ed’s once distant cries grow louder.

“Sorry, boss, gotta keep him from crushin’ ya again. Wouldn’t stop lyin’ on ya,” Zsasz explained. 

“O-Oswald.” He felt arms encircle him, wet tears on his neck like a shock as they slipped down his skin. Oswald couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Ed cry.

_(Edward sitting in the library, blanket curled around him as he drowned his sorrows in salted tears.)_

“O-Oswald, you remember, don’t you?” Ed was babbling. It seemed Zsasz had done a really shit job of calming him down. “I knew you would remember, I knew it was inevitable, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, O-Oswald-”

Ed kept babbling nonsense into his ear and Oswald let him, rubbing his hand over Ed’s back as he mouthed: “Bring the car around,” in Zsasz’s direction.

“O-Oswald, wh-what always comes too late?”

“Ed, I think you need to calm down,” Oswald soothed, tracing the lines of Ed’s suit jacket up into his hair, tugging gently as he stroked in a way he hoped Ed liked. “Ed, whatever you’re afraid of, put it out of your mind. I’m here, I’m okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Ed mumbled miserably, but at least he didn’t appear to be crying now.

“It’s fine,” Oswald replied breezily, trying to get his own breathing in check. “Just a little bit concerning, but we can’t help that.” Oswald turned his face to the room. “Could I trouble one of you gentlemen for a handkerchief?”

Something tapped against the back of Oswald’s hand and he took the handkerchief gratefully, placing a hand against Ed’s cheek to steady himself as he wiped under Ed’s eyes, being careful not to miss and poke his eyeball out.

“I thought for sure I’d lost you,” Ed whispered shatteringly.

“Lost me?” Oswald huffed, shaking his head. “Like you would ever let that happen.” Ed gave another choked sob and Oswald hushed him, carding his hands through his hair again.

“Boss, the car’s pulled up.”

“Thank you, Victor,” Oswald nodded in his direction.

“It always comes too late, Oswald,” Ed whimpered against his skin.

“Ed, would you mind terribly if you went with Zsasz? He’ll take you to the car,” Oswald explained gently.

“What about you?” Ed asked, muffled by folds of fabric.

“Zsasz will come back for me, don’t worry,” Oswald assured him, smoothing his hand through the man’s soft locks one more time.

“O-okay.” Oswald felt his weight shift before Ed finally seemed to sit up

“Take care of him,” he instructed, biting his tongue as he heard something like a whimper above Ed’s slowly waning footsteps. Oswald waited for them disappear fully before addressing the remaining men in the room. “Now, which one of you can tell me, exactly, what the hell is going on?”

“You appeared to have a seizure. In the middle of the ballroom floor, I might add.”

“Well, that’s only a theory, you would have to check in with your regular physician and do a full physical to get a _proper_ diagnosis.”

“Nonetheless, we brought you here for some quiet. You were causing _quite_ the scene.”

“And do either of you have any idea what could have caused something like that?” Oswald questioned impatiently, too tired to waste time with trivial nonsense. He needed to get to the bottom of this.

“I… Uh, _well-_ ”

Oswald huffed, rolling his eyes purely for the satisfaction of it. “Very helpful, you truly are a pair of marquises.” Oswald planted his feet on the ground, twisting around with the help of his palm pressed into the armrest. He went from sitting to standing in a few seconds, stepping forward with the feeling of blood _(water)_ rushing to his head.

_“Very well. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”_

Oswald blinked, feeling bile rise up his throat.

“Mayor Cobblepot? Are you alright?”

Oswald’s hands clenched around air and he breathed slowly, choking the oxygen down.

“Fine.” _Not fine._ He was remembering too much, feeling the rusted hood of a car scrape against his back, looking down at a pair of frosted-over eyes which would never blink again. “Let me know when Zsasz gets back.”

“Here, Boss,” Zsasz’s voice piped up from what Oswald chose to presume was the doorway.

“Good, good,” Oswald headed toward him on unsteady legs, wincing at the strain of his leg. Perhaps his cane should have been brought along in this instance.

“What should I do with the gawkers, boss?” Zsasz whispered in his ear.

“Do what you like,” Oswald huffed, flapping his hand dismissively. “As long as they keep their noses out and mouths shut.”

“Sure thing.” Zsasz agreed, grin in his voice. “Car first?”

“Car first.” Oswald nodded. “And call Olga to tell her to meet us at the door when we come in. I think Ed should go straight to bed.”

“What about you, boss?”

“Alas, I have some other matters to attend to,” Oswald admitted, fingers twitching. Very important business, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, a new chapter as promised. I hope this cheers some people up, or at least entertain thou. New chapter could come out at any moment, so watch out.


	8. Just So I Don't Have to Think About Thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, the truth hurts like a bullet in the rain, and a lie is simply a punch in the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my favourite, most anticipated chapter. Nice to see you. It's been so long. I'm happy you're here at last.
> 
> (Also, I've been sooooo sick, so sorry for late comment replies, weird replies that don't make sense, etc.)

Edward was quiet in the car, tucked against Oswald’s side, breaths soft against his neck. In comparison, Oswald’s thoughts were a pack of late-night dancers, running over sidewalks and crashing into every pedestrian they passed by.

It seemed clear now, in his head. The truth. The __real__ truth. Laid out like a scrapbook in his mind.

Once upon a time, Oswald had fallen in love, but he must have missed his chance. Along came Isabella, the girl in rags destined for royalty, or at least the love of a man Oswald had deemed his own.

Ed had loved her.

So Oswald killed her.

Which meant that he and Ed had never been together. There was no ‘them’. No first kiss, no startling confession of love, no office romance, no shared space, no make-out sessions on the couch…

Which made Edward Nygma a cold-blooded liar. A snake slithering in Oswald’s sheets, wrapping itself around him only to find out how much he’d need to expand in order to __swallow__.

Yet another traitor set against Oswald for him to decapitate.

Edward sighed against his neck, soft and sleepy, pulling his thoughts of treachery away. That was just it, wasn’t it? The man with the gun in his hand and fury in his voice didn’t match the man curled up by his side. They couldn’t be the same man, surely?

Nor did those memories match anything that had happened since Oswald had woken up. Ed could have betrayed him a million times over. Oswald was __blind__ , for God’s sake. Which could only mean one thing…

“We’re here, boss,” Zsasz spoke up, fingernails clicking against something

“Yes, thank you,” Oswald snapped, feeling Ed stir against him. “Get Jeffery to take Ed inside.”

“Uh, boss, it’s __Charles,__ ” Zsasz reminded before carrying out the order.

“Charles?” Oswald questioned quietly to himself, feeling Ed’s warmth remove itself from his side.

“O-Oswald?”

“It’s fine, Ed,” Oswald told him, staying where he was. He heard Ed’s footsteps clomp up the steps and head inside.

“Got somethin’ to share, boss?” Zsasz asked.

“What happened to Jeffrey?” Oswald asked bluntly. “He was a good driver.”

“‘Might have mentioned that Mr Nygma was a ‘nice slab of meat’ and that he’d ‘like to take a bite’ whether asked or not,” Zsasz mentioned as easily as if he was examining lint on his jacket.

__(Cold dead eyes, the tears streaming down Ed’s face, that sick feeling in his heart.)_ _

“And I suppose I…” Oswald trailed off shakily, feeling his stomach lurch, mouth falling open.

“Shot him? Yeah, yeah you did,” Zsasz chuckled as Oswald’s jaw unhinged, stomach broiling. “I’m the one who cleaned it up.”

Oswald emptied his stomach over the car floor.

“Man, these shoes are cute, boss. I didn’t really want to have to pay for them to be professionally cleaned.”

“Fuck off, Zsasz,” Oswald spat, keeping his head lowered in case anything else came up.

“No worries, I’ll call clean up. They’ll be glad to wash off a different colour for a change.”

“Whatever,” Oswald snapped, forcing himself to move across the seats and out of the car, the shivering night sinking into his bones as he climbed the steps into his home from memory alone.

“Sir... Vomit, on your shoes,” Olga commented, Russian accent colouring the words.

Oswald cackled, throwing his head back in an almost gut-wrenching way. “Oh, Olga. Only speak English when you have something to say, hmm?”

“Go upstairs,” Olga snapped. “Come down when ready for polite.”

“Will do,” Oswald laughed, feeling something slosh inside his head. Up, up, up. Up to Edward, up to the traitor, to the liar, to the man whose heart Oswald broke. Back to the man who should have just let him die.

“Edward.” Oswald felt around the room, fingers against the walls, heading for the bed. He brushed Ed’s shoulder under the covers, moved his hand up until he could stroke it through his hair.

“O-Oswald? What-”

“Shush, I need you to find me a change of clothes,” Oswald told him, wishing he could be kinder, like Ed deserved, but feeling something close up around him like the hard exterior of a crab’s shell.

“But, you need to sleep-”

“Just a pair of trousers, I’ll be back before you’re even asleep,” Oswald lied. Some games required two or more players.

“Okay, then.” The bed sheets rustled, Ed’s footsteps padding around the room. “Here.”

“Thank you.” He could sense the hesitation in Ed’s throat. “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine.”

Ed said nothing.

Downstairs, Oswald shouted for Olga, waiting impatiently in the dining room for her to join him.

“Chto?”

“Russian again, how lovely,” Oswald huffed. “Bring me a phone, I don’t care who’s, I need to make a phone call.”

Olga’s footsteps clodded away then clodded back, taking his arm to press a phone in his hand.

“No,” he snapped. “You need to dial. It’s Jim Gordon’s number.”

She followed his instructions before handing the phone over once more.

“...Who is this?”

“Jim!” Oswald howled, head tipped back like a full=moon wolf. “I hope you’ve been making some progress, __Jim!__ ” Something seemed to have dislodged itself in his brain.

“Well, I suppose you could call it that,” Jim sighed, breath crackling against the speaker. “Butch admitted to some ill-feelings towards you, no surprises there. He may have let slip some desires to rip your throat out and such. Not sure if it’s much to go on, but-”

“Jim, Jim, you know as well as I the __history__ between Butch and me,” Oswald laughed. “He is far more motivated than the average person to kill me.” Oswald licked his lips, clutching the phone tighter. “What did he say, exactly?”

“He said, and I quote; ‘If it was up to me, Oswald would have stayed in the river where he belonged’. Not exactly a confession-”

“But pretty fucking close,” Oswald spat, feet shuffling impatiently. “What will you do, Jim?”

“Give me time, procedures need to be followed, evidence gathered-”

“Screw that, Jim,” Oswald yelled, fist curling tight. “If you don’t have him arrested by tomorrow evening, I’ll go down there myself.”

“And do __what?__ ”

“Never you mind,” Oswald replied eerily, feeling his nostrils flare.

“He’s not our only suspect, you know. I meant what the note said.”

“Yes, yes, ‘don’t trust anyone’. Really, Jim, and they call __me__ paranoid,” Oswald chuckled, mouth twisting like a knife in someone’s chest.

“No…” Jim’s voice trailed off in confusion. “It said don’t trust __Ed.__ ”

“Ed?” Oswald echoed back dully. __Ed?__

“Ed’s the one Barbara pointed us towards. She heavily implied that Ed had his own motive for killing you, although she couldn’t say what.”

“Ed?” Oswald seemed to be stuck in a loop.

“Although, it’s not exactly concrete. He saved you, after all.”

“Yes!” Oswald gasped, breaking free from himself. “Yes, he did!”

“I doubt most murderers would do the same,” Jim mused. 

“How would you know?” Oswald laughed, sick of Gordon’s righteousness.

“How did you not know what the note said?” Jim asked, skipping tracks.

“Tip from the wise, __Jim__ ,” Oswald hissed. “Don’t hand a note to a blind guy.”

“Wh… Is this some kind of metaphor I’m not understanding?”

“No, __Jim,__ I mean don’t give me a fucking note when I can’t see, you fuck-head,” Oswald shouted.

“I fucking knew something was up!” Someone piped up in the background.

“Harvey,” Jim defused softly.

“Is that Bullock? I swear to God, Jim, I’ll-”

“Take it easy, Oswald,” Jim directed him. “But that can’t be true, Oswald. When I last saw you, you looked me straight in the eye.”

“Guess I’m just that good,” Oswald chuckled to himself.

“I knew he was blind! So fucking obvious!” Bullock continued in the distance.

“Okay, did everyone else realize, or-” Jim huffed.

“Guess you’re rather blind yourself, Jim,” Oswald told him smugly.

“Okay, let’s get back on track, here.” Jim cleared his throat. “I can’t do what you’re asking me for, Oswald. Less than twenty-four hours is-”

“Oh, I’m sure you can manage it,” Oswald replied sweetly, his third knuckle cracking around the phone case. “If not, well… I’m sure I will be able to find a solution to this __cold case__.”

“Oswald, you might be Mayor of this city, but-”

“But __what__ , Jim? But I can’t go around taking matters into my own hands? How long have we known each other, Jim?”

“Oswald… You know this doesn’t feel right-”

“I don’t __care__ ,” Oswald spat, hand shaking.

“Oswald, what’s really going on?”

“You didn’t call Ed today, did you?” Oswald kept his voice steady. “And he didn’t call you? Ask for times or phone records or anything.”

“What? No. Why-”

“Have a pleasant night, Jim,” Oswald forced out with a harsh laugh, hanging up the phone with an overzealous press of his thumb before handing it away to the silent Olga. “Is Zsasz still here? I’d like a word.”

“Out,” Olga replied shortly.

“Then send word,” Oswald hissed, the second knuckle cracking. “The GCPD have done nothing to move forward this investigation. It’s time we deal with it ourselves.”

Olga said nothing, footsteps carrying away.

Oswald stalked to his chair, pressed his back into the upholstery and prepared himself for dawn.

♠ ♠ ♠

“Well, I’m here, boss. What do you need?”

“Excellent, right on time!” Oswald stood then stumbled, his wretched legs trembling like some school girl’s.

“Forgot the importance of sleep, huh, boss?”

“Never mind that,” Oswald dismissed furiously, hand waving about and catching on something sharp, but he paid it no mind. “Find me my cane, and don’t go waking Ed. He needs to stay where he is.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Zsasz replied nonchalantly, footsteps carrying away.

Edward would be staying in bed, remaining none the wiser to whatever fate Oswald had set upon himself. Oswald felt an itch in his throat like he wanted to sob, to break down in tears, kneeling like a church-goer. Instead, he laughed, threw his head back like a lion mid-roar, felt his stomach twist and ribs shake.

“Here, boss.”

Oswald snatched the cane as he felt it knock against his hand, swallowing down the cotton in his head.

“What did you bring with you?” Oswald questioned, checking the motion of the cane head to feel the dagger twist out.

“Huh?”

“Armoury, Zsasz,” Oswald snapped.

“Well, we have AR 15’s, an AS Val, some Brettas, Blasers, of course-”

“Yes, yes, just hand me something that shoots when we get there,” Oswald rolled his eyes. “Anything I’m missing?”

“Nothing,” Zsasz reported. “Nygma’s still upstairs, fast asleep.”

Oswald swallowed thickly, breathing through the rise in his stomach.

“Bring the car around, then, Victor. Places to be,” Oswald instructed sharply.

“Right-o, Boss.” Zsasz’s footsteps echoed through the room and Oswald followed their sound, dragging his conscience with him.

♠ ♠ ♠

“How many women did you bring?” Oswald asked, clicking his fingernails over the metal cane head.

“Twenty. Better safe than sorry,” Zsasz answered.

“Well, I’ll give the order if they need to come in, otherwise they can stay outside. This is between Barbara and me. It’s personal.”

“If you say so, boss,” Zsasz replied unconcernedly.

Oswald clenched his teeth, growing impatient. “What’s our ETA? How far away are we?”

“Should be there in ten, boss,” Zsasz answered.

“Right.” To say that he was impatient would be an understatement. Oswald felt an evasive itch beneath his skin, calling for him to continue, to __hurry, be quick now, don’t look back, you won’t like what you see.__ His fight or flight response seemed to have kicked into overdrive, urging him to run away and towards at the same time.

Away from the man sleeping in his bed, who had given him worse than nothing but better as well. Towards the people who __had__ to be the culprits, for Oswald didn’t owe them a second chance.

__“How did it go? You put together what happened to Ed’s librarian? Turned him against me?”_ _

__“Honestly, wasn’t too hard.”_ _

“Boss,” Zsasz’s voice broke through the shells of his thoughts. “We’re here.”

Fucking finally.

“Yes, well, open the door,” he spat.

“Well, you should know,” Zsasz began. “The club is open. There are still customers inside.”

“Really?” Oswald sighed. “What time is it?”

“Four AM,” Zsasz answered. “Seems the Saturday night crowd likes to party long.”

Oswald groaned, recalling the Saturday nights from his own time captaining the club.

“Fine, leave the girls out here, we’ll go in and see if we can get the three of them __alone__ ,” Oswald ordered, straightening his spine.

“Works for me,” Zsasz agreed.

“Hand me a gun, will you?”

“Sure thing.”

Cool metal pressed into his hand, some kind of automatic pistol that Oswald __supposed__ may be enough.

Oswald pushed his worthless, aching limbs out of the car, setting his feet on the ground.

“How are you gonna aim if you can’t see?” Zsasz asked.

“That’s what you’re here for,” Oswald snapped. “Did you bring extra clips?”

“Of course,” Zsasz answered. “Here.”

Oswald snatched the clip and pushed it into the pocket of his waistcoat. “Which entrance would you suggest?”

“Looks like the bouncer’s still out, so maybe ‘round the back,” Zsasz answered.

“Lead the way.” Oswald pushed his gun into his waistband, staying close behind Zsasz, trying to follow the sound of his light tread over the booming music coming from inside the club.

“Through here.” Oswald allowed himself to be ushered inside, his heart beating impatiently.

“Location?” he asked.

“Uhh, there are bathrooms?”

“Victor, have you ever even been in this club?” Oswald snapped.

“Why would I come here? Hardly my scene. I prefer disco.”

Oswald sighed, rolling his eyes. “We’ll unpack all that later, just get me to Butch.”

“Yes, sir.” Oswald could practically __hear__ the mock salute.

Oswald waited impatiently until he realized- “Zsasz, I can’t follow you unless I can __hear__ you.”

“Well, this is rather difficult,” Zsasz admitted. “I’m used to keeping quiet. It’s kinda my job.”

“Whatever,” Oswald huffed.

“I could find you a room? Then look for Butch and the others myself.”

“Fine,” Oswald sighed. “But I’m not happy about it.”

“It’s okay, boss, won’t take too long,” Zsasz dismissed, voice carrying away. Oswald huffed, walking after him.

“See, there’s a room there. A desk and everything,” Zsasz announced.

“Just direct me to a chair, and be quick about it,” Oswald spat.

“Sure thing, boss.”

Oswald scowled, letting himself be led to a desk chair.

“Be back soon,” Zsasz said by way of goodbye before he seemed to disappear.

Great. Alone in a room he couldn’t even see. Brilliant.

Oswald pulled his gun out, feeling along the familiar ridges, checking the safety and grip.

“Ah, Oswald.” Oswald raised his head sharply, shoulders tensing in preparation. He knew that voice. “I knew you’d show up sooner or later,” she sighed. “Didn’t think it would take you __this__ long.”

“Barbara,” Oswald greeted simply, cocking the gun. He tried to pinpoint his aim to the direction of her voice, but the action proved rather more difficult than he’d hoped.

“You want answers, I understand,” Barbara spoke calmly, but she was coming closer so Oswald raised his gun threateningly. “I can help.”

“I don’t want __answers__ ,” Oswald spat. He had all the answers he needed, thank you very much. Butch shooting him as revenge after __everything__ Oswald had done for him, Barbara and Tabitha aiding him, turning Ed against him after Oswald shot- “I don’t need more of your __lies__ like the ones you spoon-fed the GCPD.”

“Those weren’t lies, Cobblepot,” Barbara snapped.

“Save it,” Oswald scoffed, deciding it was about time he stood, hand planted firmly on the desk, hoping didn’t immediately end up keeling over.

“Come now, Pengy,” Barbara tutted. “Don’t pretend that you’re __actually__ in control of the situation.”

“And don’t pretend,” Oswald chuckled, pointing the gun at her. “That I won’t shoot you.”

“You wouldn’t da-” 

Oswald pulled the trigger, firing the round with a sharp bang and a furious scream from Barbara.

“What the fuck, Oswald?” Barbara spat.

“What? I warned you,” Oswald pointed out, resetting his aim.

“Well, you missed,” Barbara hissed, seeming quite unsettled.

“I won’t next time,” Oswald bluffed. Barbara said nothing, and Oswald took it as confirmation of his control of the situation. He slowly slid himself out from behind the desk, stepping around the approximate edge of the room towards Barbara.

Barbara’s heels clicked across the wooden floors, backing away slowly. Oswald smiled, following the tracks to lead her out of the room slowly.

“Now, Barbara dear,” Oswald grinned, that sense of hurling down the train tracks at above sixty threatening to spill over him. “Take me to the others.”

“No.”

“Oh, worried about poor __Tabitha__?” Oswald simpered, expression snapping back as he adjusted his grip again. “Well, don’t worry, I want her __alive__ for this.”

“ _ _Fine__ ,” Barbara snapped. “They’ll be out by the bar. Follow me.”

Oswald did, silently thanking Barbara’s heels for clicking so deliciously loud.

“Oh, this mother-” Tabitha’s voice and Butch’s grunt were cut off.

“Well,” Barbara began. “We’re all here.”

Oswald nodded. He knew what he was doing.

__“He said, and I quote; ‘If it was up to me, Oswald would have stayed in the river where he belonged’.”_ _

This was right.

“Any stragglers, honey?” Barbara asked casually as if Oswald’s gun was pointed somewhere else.

“Just a few,” Tabitha replied shortly. “Oh, and that assassin guy Oswald likes who always disappears for no reason. Of course, I sent them all away.”

“Good girl,” Barbara purred.

“Would you please shut up,” Oswald spat. This was supposed to be __his__ moment, a time to avenge his would-be death. A time to make someone __pay__.

...Even if he couldn’t see it.

“What are you doing here, Ozzie?” Barbara asked like she didn’t __know__.

“Butch,” Oswald spat.

“Butch?”

“He tried to __kill__ me,” Oswald spat, his fury making his gun shake in his hand. __Please let it be pointing at them, god, let it look real.__

“Really? You think it was __Butch__?” Barbara laughed, high and tinkling, grating on Oswald’s nerves. “Oh, you have __got__ to be kidding me!

“Shut up!” Oswald demanded. He needed to make Butch speak so he’d get an idea of where the man’s head was before he fired the gun.

“Ed’s the one who shot you, honey,” Barbara announced with a giggle. “He planned it, he commissioned it, and __he__ executed it.”

__“I_ **_**don’t** _ ** _love you.”_ _

“No!” Oswald hissed. “You’re lying.”

“To be honest, we didn’t really care if you died. Just wanted you off our backs,” Barbara continued.

__“You melt down in public, hide out in here, people start to smell blood in the water.”_ _

“No, stop this!” Oswald shouted at her.

“But __Edward__ ,” Barbara hissed delightedly. “Now, he couldn’t __wait__ to see you gone.”

__“I_ **_**don’t** _ ** _love you.”_ _

“Please, stop, __please__ ,” Oswald begged, pressing the hilt of the gun and his open palm to his forehead as he tried to stop the flow of words, along with the enormous flood of pain that burst through with them.

“I think his exact words were… ‘I want to __destroy__ him’,” Barbara hummed appreciatively. “Got to give him credit, Eddie sure has a flair for the dramatic.”

“Please- please-” Oswald gasped, water in his lungs.

__“You can’t do this!”_ _

“Please-”

__“Ed, are you listening to me?”_ _

“Please-”

__“I’m listening.”_ _

“Please, no-”

__“Say something.”_ _

“Please-”

__“I loved her, Oswald...”_ _

“No! No, please, no, please, __please__ -”

__“...And you killed her.” Gunshot, close, too close. Point blank range. Blood spilling over Oswald’s hands as he desperately pressed them to the wound, staring at Ed in horror._ _

__(He shot me.)_ _

__Horror, deep, painful horror, distraught, flayed, broken, shattered on the floor._ _

__(He shot me.)_ _

__Ed grabbed a hold of Oswald’s necktie, and for a moment he was being pulled in, until he was being pushed, down down down into the dark, watching Ed’s figure as it filtered through the waves along with the piercing sunlight._ _

__“Oswald? Oswald, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I-”_ _

__“Get away from me.” He stumbled backwards and let himself fall back, down down down into the dark, watching Ed’s figure as it filtered through the waves along with the piercing sunlight._ _

“Is he supposed to be on the floor like that?” The ceiling. Dark. Painted. A light. It shone in his eyes.

__“O-Oswald, I’m… I hope that it’s okay that I came to see you.”_ _

“Oh, would you __please__ shut up. Be useful, help me get him up.” Barbara’s face, hovering through the cloud.

__“Oswald, what… what always come too late?”_ _

“What should I do with him?” The backs of Butch’s shoes. A dark wood floor.

__“Any dreams?”_ _

“Take him downstairs.” Wine stain to the left.

__“Amnesia suits you.”_ _

“I don’t want him disturbing anyone.” Beer stain to the right.

__“Don’t worry, I know CPR.”_ _

“He’s disturbing me.” Shoe scuffs all around.

__“I… imagine I’d miss your smile if I knew I’d never see it again. I’d probably do anything in my power just to get you back.”_ _

“Hush, Tabby.” Shifting shoes. A sign of betrayal.

__“You were humming.”_ _

“Make me.” The light danced.

__“He says ‘don’t trust anyone’._ _

“Just… take him away, Butch.” Swinging perspective. Another wine stain.

__“W-what always comes too late?”_ _

“You got it, Babs.” Moving, world a blur again.

__“You trust me, don’t you?”_ _

Butch’s huffs. The world disappearing in front of him. Blurry.

__“I’m not the one you should be worried about,_ **_**Oswald** _ ** _.”_ _

But not ****black****.

__“Oswald. Stop humming.”_ _

“I always gotta do all the work ‘round ‘ere.” Swinging. Dark wood turned to carpet.

__“You're a far better liar than I could ever be.”_ _

Purple in tone, turned vibrant under the lights. Or the bright spot in Oswald’s vision. Who was to say?

__“You never get caught.”_ _

“Come on then, lump.” Another hallway. Stairs. Dank concrete. Cold stone.

__“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”_ _

A click. Lights flickered on. Bright orange.

__“O-Oswald, you remember, don’t you? I knew you would remember, I knew it was inevitable, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, O-Oswald.”_ _

Smooth concrete blurring away. Stairs disappearing. Butch’s plodding footsteps.

__“O-Oswald, wh-what always comes too late?”_ _

A door. Closing around him. Dropped against a surface. Dust in his throat.

__“I thought for sure I’d lost you,”_ _

Ceiling again. Cold and dark this time. Far away.

__“It always comes too late, Oswald.”_ _

Oswald’s throat cracked, the river bursting through the pipe.

“What always come too late?”

♠ ♠ ♠

Oswald stayed there, staring at the ceiling, for what felt like hours. Eventually, he tired of the view and sat up, back pressed against the wall and knees pulled up with him on the little makeshift cot.

Words continued to tumble through his mind, Ed’s voice repeating itself over and over.

Oswald didn’t try to catch the words. He knew the truth, now. He remembered.

It had been his fault. He’d killed Isabelle, pushed his luck, pushed __too far__. And Ed had snapped. Tied him to the hood of her car, threatened him. __Tested him__. Let him go, gave him hope, crushed it between his teeth.

Taken him out to the docks. The place where men don’t come back from.

Put a bullet in his chest and pushed him into the river.

Put a bullet in his chest, and then changed his mind.

Oswald shook his head, examining his hands in the bleak, tungsten light. Now that the world wasn’t just a wall of darkness, he could see the way they shook, see his dirty nail beds, see the lopsided pinch of his shirt cuffs. He wondered if Ed had done them up like this, or if they had loosened and pulled sometime during the ball.

__Edward, liar, he’s a liar, he lied, he lied, he_ **_**lied.** _ ** _

Oswald shook his head. He didn’t need to think about it, think about the way Ed had sleep in his bed, kissed his lips, seen him sprawled out and naked.

That was someone else. A different Ed. __His__ Ed, one that existed only for him. He wasn’t real.

Oswald closed his eyes, buried __his__ Ed in his dreams, whispered a thousand times; “You had to go and fall in love. You had to fall in love.”

__He’s a_ **_**liar** _ ** _._ _

Oswald slammed his fist against the wall in a moment of weakness.

He'd been kept there too long, dawn ought to have broken outside, a new sun rising. A blanket of peace seemed to shroud him, settling on his shoulders. He had been awake so long, strung out and exhausted. Finally, here in this cold little cell with the truth spinning through his head, Oswald allowed himself to lie down and breathe, closing his eyes.

__Liar, liar._ _

Yes, a liar.

♠ ♠ ♠

Oswald slept a dreamless sleep, the room's cold seeping into his skin. His heart rate slowed. Breaths even.

He awakened suddenly, like the flipping of a switch. There was a tall glass of water in the corner and a metal bowl.

Well, at least he knew Barbara didn't mean to kill him. Well, not by dehydration.

Oswald poured a little of the water into the bowl, used it to wash his hands and face, before drinking the rest of his glass.

He reset his clothes, doing his cufflinks up right, straightening his tie and the line of his waistcoat. According to the slightly reflective surface at the bottom of his bowl, he presented a very put together front.

Now, all he needed was an opportunity to make a move.

“O-oh no, oh please, oh dear, oh dear-” someone babbled in the distance, voice growing nearer.

Oh shit, Oswald knew that voice.

“Stop squealing, Nygma,” Butch grunted.

“Please, please-” Scuffling sounded outside the door. Oswald found himself on his feet, facing the noise with a mix of anticipation and dread. He hadn’t thought that he was ready to see Ed, but perhaps this was his chance to finally get Ed to admit the truth. An enclosed space where the cowardly lion couldn’t __run__.

The door opened, Butch a mere silhouette as he shoved Ed forward and shut the door behind him before Ed could be given the chance to gather himself.

Ed stayed on the floor, whimpering like a kicked dog. He was pathetic. A dust mite. A __liar.__

“Edward,” Oswald greeted quietly, something burning in his chest. “Stop kissing the floor, it doesn’t kiss back.”

“Oswald?” Ed’s chin tilted up, and, oh, that was a sight Oswald hadn’t seen in a while; tousled curls strewn over his forehead, dark eyes peering out from behind thick lenses, Ed’s long, exposed neck.

“How did you get here?” Oswald asked, watching Ed’s Adam's apple bob.

“W-when I woke up this morning, you weren’t there, and when I came downstairs Olga said you’d __left__.” Ed’s lower lip trembled. Oswald wondered if had done that often in the previous weeks. If he’d felt the need to force tears from his eyes for every lie he told.

Oswald pursed his lips, shaking his head slowly. “Why are you here?”

“I was worried, Oswald. Why didn’t you say you wanted to leave? W-why did you need to come to the __Sirens’__ w-when you know they want to hurt-”

“That’s not what I meant, Ed,” Oswald snapped. “How did you know that __this__ is where I was?”

Ed blanched, a sick look in his eye. “I-I guessed.”

__Liar._ _

“That’s a lie,” Oswald barked, left-hand curling into a fist. “Don’t tell another.”

“I-I-” Ed stumbled.

Oswald took a careful step forward.

“Barbara called me!” Ed finally admitted. “She said you’d paid her a visit and that she was keeping you here. I… I wanted to __save__ you.”

“Yes, just like you __‘saved’__ me at the docks,” Oswald snapped, dragging his eyes down Ed’s weak frame with a look of disgust.

“W-wha… I…” Oswald rolled his eyes. Suddenly, the blurry look in Edward’s eyes snapped into one of absolute fear. “You… You can see me. Can’t you?”

“Yes, Edward, I can fucking see you,” Oswald spat, something sparking at Ed’s flinch. Ed quivered, eyes wide as saucers. “Disappointed?”

“N-no,” Ed shook his head.

“Why?” Oswald cocked his head. “It wouldn’t be the first time I disappointed you.”

Ed’s mouth dropped open and he let out a sound like a retch. “You-you remember.”

“Edward,” Oswald enunciated. “What always comes too late?”

A swallow moved down Ed’s throat. “ _ _Regret__.”

Of course.

Fuck him. Fuck him, fuck him, __fuck him.__

“Fuck you for killing me,” Oswald spat, keeping Ed pinned to the floor with the force of his glare, although a dirty thought in his mind suggested doing the same with the toe of his shoe. “Fuck you for lying about it. And fuck you for __pretending__ to love me.”

“But I-”

“Save it,” Oswald hissed. Edward stared up at him, eyes too wide and watery, fists resting on his knees, clenched. Oswald shook his head. “Fuck you, Edward Nygma.”

“Per-please-” Ed stuttered out, crawling forward on his hands and knees. Oswald scowled down at him.

“I’m sorry, __Ed__ , but the begging routine isn’t going to work right now,” Oswald spat. “So get your ass off the floor. It’s not your __life__ at stake, Ed. You don’t need to bother with the routine.”

“Oswald, you-” Ed began shakily.

“Up!” Oswald shouted. “Just stand on your feet like a man!”

“F-fine.” Ed stood, legs stumbling forward as if controlled by an inept puppeteer. “Oswald, you need to know-”

“Know __what?__ ” Oswald snapped. “That I deserved it? That I sent my man after your girl, so you had to pay me back in kind? I fucking understand, Ed. It made me sick to the stomach, knowing I had hurt you, knowing I had lied to you, knowing I had betrayed you.”

Oswald was shaking.

“But you betrayed me right back. My father, my kingdom, my __life.__ And then you lied about everything. You made me believe you loved me. You betrayed my trust so profoundly. I shared too much of myself with you, and all you gave me was a __shell__.” Oswald cackled, shaking his head wildly, tears in his eyes. “Why did you pretend? Why did you even bother saving me, hmm? You saw this coming, I know you did. You should have just let me die.”

“No,” Ed said quietly.

“Why didn’t you just let me die?”

The room rang with the words, an echo in their ears as Oswald laughed and laughed and __laughed__ , stumbling back until he was sitting on the bed again with his hands braced on either side of his thighs.

“I can explain that,” Ed told him finally, something equally small but insistent in his voice. “I swear, I can explain.”

“Okay!” Oswald shouted with false cheer, standing again. His hand reached for his water glass. “Go ahead, explain.”

Ed's throat worked a swallow.

“ ** **EXPLAIN!**** ” Oswald threw the glass, watched as it shattered by Ed’s head.

A breath hissed through Ed’s teeth and he nodded, tears glistening in his eyes.

It was time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to knightinpinkunderwear for being an awesome beta for the last three chapters, I'm so grateful, thank you.
> 
> Also, thank you me for FINALLY finishing this chapter, it's been in your head for eight(!!!) months and it's finally being published, congrats. And, as a side note, this is officially my longest fic ever, so, yay!
> 
> As per usual, all comments/kudos will be greatly appreciated (esp. theories on what the next chapter will entail 😉)


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